Divided We Stand (A Packs Roleplay, OPEN and ACCEPTING)

[The Royal Mirage]

Posting is now open and we have started! Still accepting new members!

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Discussion Thread

First off, I'd like to formally welcome you to this roleplay thread. Divided We Stand is a bit of an experiment I've been wanting to do for quite some time now, and would love it if you considered helping me complete it. In this roleplay there are three packs - each pack is known for a specific skill set. If you're starting out as a loner, you can go into whatever pack you want regardless of your wolf's skill in that talent, but if you are born into a pack I ask that you please follow the pack's skill set to some degree. Okay? Good, now we can move on to the fun part.

Please try to read everything, because it is all important.

The Great Pack of the Central Plains
Many years ago, there was a pack of wolves who lived in peace on the central plains of a wide and lush land. In every direction, opportunities presented themselves, and the pack expanded outward to all sides. To the North, faraway mountains loomed on the horizon, their peaks like jagged teeth in an old wolf's maw. All manner of prey came down from the mountains; elk, deer, even goats at times. Hunters from the great pack would travel North for hunting trips, keeping their pack always well fed. To the East, many days walk would lead to balmy shores with salty waves that would caress the silken sand. One could find pretty shells and pearls along the beach, as well as gemstones which glimmered in above ground and underwater caves. Crafters would travel the long distance to these shores to collect trinkets for their crafts and sand for glass-making, their work fetching high prices in the form of favours or work from brutes and faes. And finally to the West, a distant forest grew with wild tenacity, the wide trees seeming to stretch up forever. In this forest lived many dangerous predators - wolverines, bears, jaguars - the pelts or teeth of which were considered tokens of one's fearlessness and strength. When warriors of the great pack came of age, they were sent on expeditions to the forest, and would only be allowed back after killing one of the woods' many fearsome creatures.

This was the largest wolf pack in the land, known for miles around for its rich culture, kind disposition, and the talented wolves who lived there. There were many things that outsiders and pack wolves alike spoke of, but most revered and loved were the alphas.

Abesoloma and Aditi were the greatest alphas to ever rule the pack of the central plains, or so they say. Abe, alpha male, was the spiritual leader, and his wisdom lead the pack through many hardships. It is said his white coat shimmered like a beacon of hope, his golden markings glowed like the sun. Aditi, the alpha fae, was the pack's finest fighter, her skills and strength pulling the pack through many battles. Her shadowy pelt was said to be black as the night, with silver markings that glittered like stars. Their rule brought with it an era of happiness, good health, and prosperity for the pack, and their comrades rejoiced when it became known that Aditi was heavily pregnant.

On a cold fall night, three healthy pups were born. One male and two females, each pup distinctly different from the start. The eldest of the pups was named Zeda, her soft pup pelt was the colour of liquid silver. Her younger sister was given the name Odara, and her white coat shone like untouched snow. The youngest and largest, the male pup, was named Clodoveo, and his black pelt glimmered like pure onyx. The alphas were proud, and the pack celebrated the happy occasion with bonfires, feasts, and gifts of the finest quality. They hoped that their pups would one day rule the pack together.

As pups, the trio were nigh inseparable, playing, laughing, and rumbling all around camp. But it soon became apparent that the pups were quite different, and as they grew older, they grew further apart:

Zeda would travel with the hunters, growing to love the mountains windy climate and rocky peaks. Her body grew lean and her paws became silent, being molded by the elements she surrounded herself with. Seldom would she return to camp without a new kill, though it often went to the mothers of pups or the elderly *by her request*. Though her kindness was well known, the thrill of the hunt was all she lived for, and she was proud to provide for a pack she presumed she would one day rule.

Odara was a little bundle of mischief, playing tricks on her fellow pack mates and learning the ways she could most easily get what she wanted. Her curvy little figure was much adored and desired, her sultry eyes hypnotizing. Brutes would spend no shortage of favours in order to shower her with gifts, and there was nothing she loved more than a beautiful charm. Being the middle sibling, she never tired of this treatment, and would never tire of it when she would become alpha.

Clodoveo had always been the largest of his siblings, and cared little for prettiness or prey. He wished to claim glories beyond recognition, to accomplish feats beyond imagination. His desires lead him to the forest of the warriors, and his kills were never slow to be known around camp. He knew he was the strongest of his siblings, even if he was youngest, and looked forward to leading many wars in the name of conquest for his pack when he became alpha.

The three siblings all grew stronger in their beliefs, and more confident that they would be chosen to rule the great pack. A fierce rivalry developed between them, one which had begun to affect the members of the pack as well. The hunters would hide away some of the food for only themselves to eat, the crafters began to trick their customers into ridiculous situations for their work, and the warriors banded together to bully the pack members into obedience.

Soon, the siblings had had enough, and went to their parents. Each one plead their case to the alphas, arguing why they should rule as opposed to their siblings. Zeda argued that she could provide best for the pack, her hunting skills were unparalleled. Odara claimed herself to be the most cunning, and that her smarts could direct the pack away from any bad situation. Clodoveo demanded that he be made alpha, and insisted that he would fight for the title if he had to. Abe and Aditi were saddened by their childrens' disagreement, and decided that none of them would rule the pack.

Enraged and betrayed, each sibling went their separate ways; Zeda to the mountains, Odara to the shores, and Clodoveo to the forest. Each was followed by those in the pack who believed in their cause, forming three separate packs. It is unknown what happened to Abesoloma and Aditi.

~~~

It has been a great many years since the separation of the packs, and their leaders have died off long ago. They have forgiven each other in a ways, though some still remember the prejudices and wars fought between packs. They still live separately, but at the end of every moon cycle and during the bitter winter months, the packs come together once again. It is in these times that they try to remember the golden age of Aditi and Abesoloma, helping and providing for each other. Though the packs have grown so much that it would be too difficult to merge permanently, they still enjoy meeting on these occasions of both joy and hardship.

We have stamps! This was made by Shayde_Wolf!

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[The Royal Mirage]

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The Pack of the Western Forest
(members of this pack should type posts in shades of red or orange

The Pack of the Western Forest is best known for its strong and brave warriors. Lead by the descendant of Clodoveo, the young alpha Gemini, it is hardy and thirsty for glory. The alpha is an avid healer, and has never been defeated in battle in his 2 and a half years of life.

The Western Forest is known for its many dangerous inhabitants, whether they be predators - such as bears or cougars - or any manner of loathsome beast. Boars, badgers and wolverine are known to prowl within its depths, and more dangerous prey animals such as moose or bison can sometimes be seen around the fringes. To be considered a warrior, a wolf must first go into training under a master warrior, then kill any of these animals.

This pack respects strength and bravery among its inhabitants, and accomplished warriors are most admired. A warrior will often wear tokens or souvenirs of his or her kills, and the more dangerous the animal, the more sought after the adornment. Wolverine and cougar are the most well-respected kills, followed by bears, bison, moose and boar. Badgers are the lowest of the respected kills, and many master warriors will refuse to even look at a badger. It is considered dishonorable for a warrior to kill small prey such as rabbits or stoats.

Every so often, master warriors will be challenged by younger warriors in an attempt to gain rank and recognition. If the younger warrior is victorious, he is promoted to master warrior and the loser is demoted and dishonored. If the younger loses, he is dishonored, and made to bear a scar for his foolishness. If the battle ends with no obvious victor, the younger warrior is promoted to master, and the master warrior loses no rank. It is customary after such draws that the challenged warrior presents the younger warrior with a token of one of his kills, usually the one whose fighting style the younger warrior's is most reminiscent of.

The pack still contains wolves of other skills, though some are more respected than others. Healers are most respected, followed by trackers, then crafters, and finally hunters. There are also wolves who are taught in all talents and excel in none, known as deltas, though they are less respected than even hunters. There are no omegas in this pack, seeing as they are easily picked off by dangerous creatures, and are often kicked out of the pack early on. Female omegas, however, are kept in the pack and taught menial skills, often serving under warriors, watching after pups, or helping healers. There is one head tracker and one head hunter, though crafters are ranked by skill. Healers can only gain a higher ranking if they also posses an innate spiritual connection, and are then called shamans.

When a brute and dove wish to become mates, they are to formally address the alpha, beta, and head warrior. If they are both judged to be fit of body and heart, they are permitted to be together and have pups. It is customary that the male presents the token of his first kill to his mate, which she must wear at all times to show that she is spoken for. It is frowned upon, but not forbidden, for female warriors to be mated to males of another rank. There is no formal courting process, but it is frowned upon to 'break up', so choose carefully.

Most of the dens in the pack are underground, dug to intertwine with the thick roots of the forest's trees. They most often contain two or three rooms, with tunnels connecting each room and furs lining the floor of the primary sleeping room.

Tokens of a wolf's kill are most often worn around the neck, though some warriors like to pierce teeth or claws into their ears. Bracelets or tail rings are unfashionable. In the cold months, the alpha wears a hooded cloak of wolverine fur, which is lined with the canine teeth or tusks of his kills so that it clinks wherever he wears it.


The Pack of the Northern Mountains
(members of this pack should type posts in shades of darker yellow or green)

The Pack of the Northern Mountains is best known for its swift and silent hunters. Lead by a newcomer by the name of Maia, it is known for its kindness and peaceful nature. The alphess is a kind soul and, assisted by her sisters, she does her best to provide and care for her pack mates.

The Northern Mountains are known for their wide, airy range, and the plentiful prey who live there. All manner of prey roam the area, mostly deer, mountain goats, rabbits and sheep. Elk, stoats, and beaver are less common, and there is the occasional predator such as bears or mountain lions.

Elk, deer and sheep can be found on the flatter ranges, while goats are most common on the rocky inclines towards the peaks. Rabbits are common prey, and some of the more skilled hunters are able to catch birds. Stoats can be found along the rivers, as well as the occasional beaver, and the ability to catch fish is well respected. A lone hunter has never been known to take down a bear or mountain lion, though groups of master hunters are sent to take care of them if one becomes a problem. A hunter who comes back to camp with no kill is looked down upon.

Hunting expeditions usually take place every week or so, with two or three groups going out at once. Hunting alone whenever one feels like it is frowned upon, especially if the wolf does it often. The master hunters are respected not only for their kills, but for knowing when to respect their prey as well. A hunter who is ruthless or careless of his or her kills is dishonored, and sometimes cast out of the pack.

Though hunters are most well respected as the providers of the pack, other ranks exist as well. Trackers are the most important of the lower ranks, seeing as they are responsible for seeking out prey, and are followed by healers, warriors, and finally crafters. Seeing as few hunters will do more than simply wear or use the fur of their kills, the finer art practiced by crafters is seen as frivolous and unnecessary. Deltas also exist in the pack, and can be well respected if they carry a great deal of intelligence. They are often advisers, though if they are known for bad advice they are more often stuck with pup-sitting duties. Omegas are the lowest rank, and are known to be weak of body and ignorant of mind. An omega is trusted with nothing of importance, though they are required to help around camp whenever someone is needed. There is one head hunter, who is in charge of organizing hunting expeditions along with the alpha. After that, there is a head tracker and a head warrior. Crafters have no higher ranks, and healers with an innate spiritual connection are known as shamans.

Wolves may mate as they please among the rankings, with the exception of omegas. It is customary that the mated pair go on a hunting expedition on their own, and that they line their den's floor with the kill they make. If an omega is chosen as a mate by a higher rank, it must first be approved by the alpha or beta. If the omega makes positive contributions to the pack, and their partner is willing to protect and provide for them, then the pair are permitted to mate. There is no formal courting process, and mates may change without being looked down upon.

Most dens are partially above ground, built up with a partial roof before dipping down into the earth. The dens consist of mainly 2 rooms, though mated pairs may have up to 4 or 5. The entrance to the den is usually covered with a pelt, pelts also lining the floors of all rooms. There are a few dens which are more like small caves, indents into the side of the mountain really. These usually have a small entrance, with a large inner room. Tunnels are impossible to dig in these dens, so they cannot be reshaped.

Fashion is not an important part of the pack's culture, and can be seen as bothersome when performing important duties. A few wolves will wear studs in their ears of gems found in mountain caves, but that's about it. Anything else could be seen as potentially dangerous when hunting.


The Pack of the Eastern Shores
(members of this pack should type posts in shades of blue or purple)

The Pack of the Eastern Shores is notorious for its cunning and beautiful members. -alpha blurb-

The Eastern Shores are best known for their soft white sand and plentiful crafting resources. The pack does not actually live directly on the shores, rather on the hilly land a short walk away. There are outcroppings of loose forest that surround the pack land, as well as several hidden caves (above ground and below the water's surface) which are filled with beautiful gems. Wild oats grow further out towards the old Central Plains, as well as an orchard a few hours walk south from camp.

The few prey that inhabit this land are mostly rabbits and deer, the soft hides and furs of which are always appreciated by the wolves of the shores. The deer, however, only inhabit the area during the colder months, the shores being too warm for them during late spring and summer. Stoats and beavers can sometimes be found along the river which branches out north of the pack. Fishing is also common, and other sea foods such as crustaceans or even eel are considered a delicacy. Sea birds roost at the tops of the cliffs which line the water's edge, though most of the wolves are only skilled enough to raid the nests for eggs. Further out towards the old Central Plains, hunters can sometimes catch prairie dogs, and though mice are plentiful, few wolves of the shores will even think about eating them. The wolves have adapted to eating fresh fruits, and even making breads and sweets; these foods are greatly enjoyed by wolves of higher ranks.

The ranking system in the shores is much more extensive than those of the forest and mountains, though the principles are basically the same. There is never any challenge for rank, however, and it is by more cunning methods that wolves gain in status. The highest ranking individuals are the alphas, followed closely by the betas and then the 'Next in Line'. The next in line is most often the eldest child of the alphas, and is expected to become the leader of the pack when they are of age (2 years) and the alphas are deceased. After these are Senior Deltas, who are not particularly skilled in any craft, but have a very high intellect and have been able to gain rank through favor with the alpha or beta. After these are the rankings of Master Crafter, who is extremely skilled in their area of crafting (to be explained) or is skilled in more than one area, then the separate ranks of crafters, in no particular order. These ranks are as follows: Jewelers, who create jewelry and adornments (such as combs or hair clips) from gemstones, shells, thread, and even glass beads and metal chains (some Jewelers are skilled enough with fire to make the last two for themselves); Smiths, who smelt ores and create glass and metal decorations and fittings (a metal or glass band is an exceptional sign of wealth for the wearer, as well as the skill of the smith, or smithy); Instrumentalists, who are skilled in the creation of finely tuned instruments, most commonly woodwinds, though the most skilled are able to create strings instruments (percussive instruments are not often made, since mostly faes play instruments and it is considered 'brutish' or 'tribal' to play something like a drum); and Couturiers, who sew for a living and create beautiful clothing and even rugs and tapestries, all of which can include gemstones, shells, anything they find attractive really. The next rank is that of healers and shamans - both are considered the same ranking, though there is the difference of spiritual connection differentiating the two. Following is the rank of Delta, most often being a fae or, less often, a brute who has married into a higher ranking. The 'rank' of delta is more of a title, being used in front of the wolf's job (ex. delta tracker) and is usually kept even if the mated pair split up. After deltas are tutors; a tutor is most often an older fae or brute who acts as a babysitter and educator for pups. Their role in the pack is one of great importance, seeing as they will likely be the first to explain to pups about the complex society they are to grow up in. Tutors for pups of higher ranks will also teach them how to read and write, as well as dancing and often an artistic outlet such as singing or painting for faes. Next in line are cooks and bakers, who sell food which they have made themselves. It is hard to earn a living as a cook unless you are particularly skilled, however you are still respected more for doing so than the following ranks. The last of the ranks are as follows in order of importance to the pack: tracker, hunter, warrior, and omega. Trackers have less of a role in the pack for finding prey so much as seeking out individuals, and can sometimes gain rank in society carrying messages or spying for higher ranks. Hunters have little to really contribute to pack society, seeing as there is little natural prey about most of the year - some hunters, however, are adept at fishing or even catching birds, and can earn a living working for cooks. Warriors are considered to be rather useless, seeing as there has not been war among the packs for generations, however some higher ranks will hire the strongest of warriors as bodyguards for their female mates or daughters. The reason for this is the ranking of Omegas. In the shores, an omega is a wolf who has been cast out from high society, and shunned by the other classes. This is most often a wolf who has acted out violently or abandoned social protocol too often, and it is hard for them to find work. This is why most omegas will take up thievery, if they are not already beggars, though some will choose to leave the pack altogether.

The currency of the pack is rather simple really. Copper pieces are the lowest in value, and will pay for small snacks and certain materials. A few copper pieces is an acceptable tip for a lower ranking wolf who has done a good job for you (and it is expected that you tip them). Ten copper pieces is the equivalent of one nickel piece. A nickel piece will buy a decent meal and is what most guards or trackers are paid in. Ten nickel pieces is the equivalent of one silver piece, the third highest currency in value. Silver pieces are used in the payment of most cloth goods, though some cooks can fetch a silver piece for a particularly good meal. 5 silver pieces is the equivalent of one gold piece, the highest of the coin currencies. Gold pieces are used for the payment of fine jewelry, as well as anything that has to be crafted very delicately. Some wolves will take gemstones, pelts, or favors as payment for their services, the size and quality of the gemstone usually dictating the quality of service. The hides of rabbits are known to be very soft, and doeskin, especially white saiga, is very fashionable - seeing as they are uncommon, they will sometimes be offered in trades and as payment. Each wolf is taxed by the alphas, and must provide 5 percent of their income as tax - wolves who fail to do so can be brutally penalized, so it's best to just pay your dues. Omegas are not taxed, seeing as most will have no viable income to tax. Part of the taxes goes towards paying healers and shamans, so that all members of the pack can get healthcare when it is needed, regardless of their income.

Pack society is very complex for the wolves of the shores, with a plethora of sophisticated social cues. It is expected that, when meeting someone new, you introduce yourself as well as all of your companions if you have any (this is not necessary if someone else has introduced you). Before addressing the alpha, you must give a respectful bow, whether it be a simple dip of the chin or full bodied.

When in public, especially for wolves of higher rank, it is expected that one looks uncaring yet aware of their surroundings. A haughty, nonchalant look is one seen on the face of almost every rank above tutors (healers being an exception), and it is considered weak-minded or foolish to show emotion too readily. Fashion is extremely important in showing off your rank, especially for faes. Wolves are expected to be well groomed, with a proper yet individualistic look, while rank-lovers usually go for the more reserved end of the fashion spectrum. Every fae of high ranking is expected to wear at least one piece of jewelry or cloth at all times while in public, and males are expected to look tidy and simple, with no muck or gunk in their fur.

It is not expected for friends or family to act formally together, however when speaking to wolves of certain ranks (delta or higher) the expectations rise. As a male of a lower rank (anything below delta), you are expected to keep your ears perked forward when spoken to, with front paws together and tail lowered respectfully. You must ask before speaking, and speak only if permission is granted. As a female of a lower rank, you are expected to keep your ears perked and neck arched gracefully. It is customary for the front paws to be pressed delicately together, and the tail is often wrapped partially around a hind leg in an elegant curve. You may not speak unless spoken to, and when you do it must be in a soft, obedient tone. Any stance of power or arrogance is unacceptable, and any wolf of lower rank displaying such behavior is shunned.

Violent body language, such as bared teeth or raised hackles, is seen as a trait of a 'less cultured' or 'unstable' individual. Wolves who act out on impulse are seen as weaker minded, and can be subject to mockery, though certain wolves of a high enough rank who act out violently are simply pandered to in an effort to not bear the brunt of their violent attitude.

Courting is a rather complicated process in the eastern pack, and must be followed precisely for the courting process to be accepted among the pack members. This process is more important for wolves of higher ranks, and must be followed even more accurately and with much more grandeur.

If a male wishes to court a dove, he must first present her with a small gift; this can be anything from a flower to a pearl, and the higher the male's ranking, the rarer the gift is expected to be (though not expensive). If the fae accepts the gift, the courting process continues. If she rejects, the male is permitted to try as often as he pleases. A fae may be approached in this way by several males at one point in time, though she may only accept one offer at a time. The next step in the process is a casual date, as proposed by the male; often walks along the beach or journeys to the tops of the cliffs, though males may get as creative as they like for suggestions. At the end of the date, if the fae wishes to continue with the courtship, she is expected to make it known by kissing the baron on the cheek. A series of dates is expected to come after the first - for wolves of higher ranking, they are expected to go on at least 3 and must present the fae with at least one other, more thoughtful gift, before the last step of courtship. After an appropriate amount of dates, the male is expected to present the fae with a piece of jewelry, most often a bracelet or earring for middle-class and lower ranks, and a circlet or necklace for higher ranks. With this gift, he must also ask the fae to be his mate. If the fae accepts, the courtship is complete. It is acceptable for this process to take a couple weeks to complete, though it can sometimes take months. Despite the complicated courting process, it is completely acceptable for a pair to break up for any reason.

It is not permitted for a fae to initiate courtship with a male - any such instances will subject the fae to ridicule and even loss of rank in some cases. Females are, however, permitted to flirt with males and 'encourage' courtship with their charms and wit.

Dens are built above ground a short distance from the beaches, so as to prevent flooding at high tide, and are arranged in a large cluster, with wolves of higher rank living closer to the center and small road-like paths weaving between the stone-built hovels. The pack alphas live in the very center, in a den large enough to house at least 15 wolves at a time in the main room (seeing as they are expected to be the keystone of pack society and host 'parties' at regular intervals). Many wolves will keep small gardens outside their dens, and some live farther out from the 'town' in order to grow crops to trade and sell. Generally, the higher your pack ranking, the larger your den must be. The ability to work with fire is unique to the shores pack, having developed their own type of kilns from the hard gravel/shale/shell fragments that can be dug up on the beach, and certain ranks are required to own at least one to earn a living.



The Southern Camp
(this camp is inhabited only during the winter months, and during the full moon of each month, by the three packs)

The Southern Camp, a large wash two days walk from any of the packs, was a location decided upon long ago by alphas of the three packs to be a place of unity, a place where the packs could live together for just a short while. It is here where the culture of each pack is experienced by all, where bonds are formed between all pack members, and most of all where the packs help each other to survive in the harsh months.

A rather simple place, the low land was chosen for its closeness to the earth, resistance to the wind, and simplicity of design. The walls of the wash have been dug out long ago into five large dens, which branch off into smaller dens from the inside in places. The floors of the dens are well worn from years of being tread upon, and the smaller dens will always have furs of some sort as a bed. The very center of the wash is where the packs host a bonfire during each full moon, and during colder nights in the winter, with a pit dug out in the sandy soil.

It takes two whole days to travel from any of the packs down to the Southern Camp, and the trip there is usually uneventful. The wolves of the mountains will sometimes stop in the old Central Plains when journeying to the Southern Camp, and stay in the abandoned old dens for a night.

When the packs come together for the full moon, it is much like a great festival. Wolves come together to play games, tell jokes, and simply experience the cultures of one another during the day. Bonfires are usually held, and many crafters and chefs will trade their wares and give out samples. And when the night rolls around, the wolves bask and howl in the glory of the full moon.

During the winter, prey is scarce, and consists mostly of deer, elk, and rabbit. Deer is most common, the herds preferring the southern climate in the frigid cold. It is mostly the wolves from the mountains who hunt, and thus it is expected that only the old, sick or injured are hunted. The wolves must also compete for food with other predators, being more tenacious and irritable in the winter - wolverine, lynx and boars can be a big problem during this time of year, and any caves are considered 'off limits' in case of hibernating bears. The wolves of the forest are treasured whenever a dangerous predator has been sniffed out around camp.

The three months that the packs spend together in the Southern Camp are considerably more calm and casual than the time spent in the packs the rest of the year - rankings are mostly forgotten, with the exception of alphas and betas, though wolves from the shores find it hard to discard preconceived notions about ranking. Wolves will mostly spend their days inside the large community dens, telling stories and catching up with old friends from the other packs. Crafters often trade their wares with wolves from the other packs, enjoying the 'exotic' merchandise.

Romances are sometimes formed during times in the south, even between wolves of different packs. It can be difficult, meeting only once a month, though some try to stay in touch, sending messages between the packs and even meeting up halfway. This is acceptable between all of the packs, as long as the pair are not mates. If they do wish to become mates, one wolf must forsake their pack to join the other, and then go through the consequent courting process (if one is present). A wolf who forsakes their pack is never permitted to come back.


The Wilds
(the area outside pack territories and established camps)
The Wilds, which encompass any land not claimed by the packs, have a varied landscape depending on where you find yourself. The Wilds are mostly inhabited by loners or fugitives from the three packs, though each month pack wolves travel through the wilds to reach the Southern Camp.

To the north, the land becomes rocky and more sparse of vegetation - rivers and streams are common, and shale can be a problem for loners and travelers attempting to traverse the uneven terrain. Trees are mostly evergreens, with a few deciduous standing alone or as stunted shrubs in higher altitudes. Snow is common in fall and spring, and the temperature stays relatively cool even during the summer months. The northeast is home to sheer cliffs which overlook the vast eastern sea, while the northwest rises in further mountain ranges dotted with caves. Prey found in the area include mountain goats, sheep, deer and rabbits. Less common prey are elk, stoats, and beaver, and the occasional predator such as bears or mountain lions do appear.

To the west, trees dominate the smoother terrain - a few streams and brooks can be found weaving through the moss-laden landscape, though the southwest is known to be particularly marshy. Trees are mostly deciduous, with thick trunks and high branches - many are fruit- or nut-bearing, which can be helpful when in need of a quick snack. Snow usually only falls in winter or late autumn, and summers are warm but shady, with beautiful blooming springs. It is wise to stay on guard in the western wilds, some predators which live in the dense forest are known to travel outside of it as well - these include cougars, wolverines, bears, and badgers. Prey animals include weasels, rabbits, and the occasional deer; more dangerous prey which can be found include moose and bison.

To the east, the land calms into rolling plains with loose forests dotted about - there is one large river which travels in the northeast towards the sea, through stands of deciduous trees. Many of the fields in the east hold wild oats and barley, and one particularly well known stand of fruit-bearing trees is huddled in the southeast. Snow only falls in the dead of winter, however storms can be very severe so close to the sea. Small prey such as mice and rabbits are common on dry land, and fishing for food in the salty shores can provide an easy meal to those skilled enough for the job. Deer roam the area in winter, but otherwise can't handle the balmy weather.

[The Royal Mirage]

Navigation:
Intro
Pack Cultures
Rules (you are here)
Ranks and Characters
Sign ups

Note: The general rules of each pack has been outlined in the Pack Cultures section, and so pack rules will not be included in this post.

Rules
-Tess's rules apply
-This is a semi-literate to literate roleplay, meaning I expect at least a paragraph (3-4 relevant and descriptive sentences) per character. I understand if you have writer's block, but try not to use the excuse too often
-Please use the sign up sheet I have provided - you may resize/recolour/add all you want, as long as you include every detail in the original form (rp example especially)
-Be realistic and fair when hunting - taking down large or dangerous prey is not usually something a normal wolf can do on their own, or even with just one other partner. If you are going to rp this kind of scenario, be detailed with the struggle your wolf experiences, and the skill and thought they demonstrate
-Be nice to other rp-ers. This means I'd like everyone to try to be helpful and understanding of each other - provide recaps when they're asked for, try to calmly sort out disagreements, etc.
-Respect the mods, they're here to help
-Follow the pack customs and descriptions - for example, don't have a wolf born in the shores who is an amazing fighter
-No gary/mary sues
-No god-modding or power playing. At all
-No forced matings/killing other wolves without the other player's permission
-Drama between wolves is encouraged - drama between players is not. If you have a problem with someone, pm myself or one of the mods to get it sorted out
-If you read all the rules, please put 'Deinopius Rocks' before your forms
-Violence is allowed, just nothing too gory, and give the other wolf a chance to fight back
-Sign up at least one male and one female
-Wild colours and designs are allowed, just no wings or powers please
-High positions in the pack such as alpha, beta, and heads of rank (ex. Head Tracker) must first be approved by me
-Time between conception of pups and birth of pups is at least 5 days in real life
-DO NOT speed ahead without the go ahead from myself or a mod
-Mods have the authority to issue warnings and strikes, only I can ban you though
-I have the authority to refuse your form for any reason
-Don't roleplay more than 5 pages without me
-If you no longer wish to be a member of this rp, tell me, I don't bite
-Have Fun!!

Breaking a rule will warrant a warning the first time - if you continue to break rules, you will earn strikes. Three strikes will get you banned from this roleplay.

Mods:
-goldleaf-
Nellas Lissësúl
sakorian rage

Blacklist:
Empty - let's keep it that way ^^

[The Royal Mirage]

Navigation:
Intro
Pack Cultures
Rules
Ranks and Characters (you are here)
Sign ups

This page will be updated whenever new wolves are added to the rp. It is a useful reference guide to the wolves in each pack, and the special ranks and social hierarchy of each pack.

Pack of the Western Forest
Alpha Male: Gemini
(Male leader of the pack)
Alpha Female:
(Female leader of the pack, to be chosen by Alpha Male)
Beta Male: Clarence
(Second in command to the alphas)
Beta Female:
(Second in command to the alphas, to be chosen by Beta Male)
Head Warrior:
(Most skilled warrior)
Shamans: Dovev
(Healers with an innate spiritual connection)
Head Tracker:
(Most skilled tracker)
Skilled Crafters:
(Crafting wolves whose work is considered more desirable than that of other pack crafters)
Head Hunter: Saber
(Most skilled hunter)
Master Warriors: Leonis
(Strong and courageous warriors who have proven their strength)
Warriors: Aella, Quinn, Ruby, Bastian (visiting Northern Mountains), Emily
(Wolves who fight to defend their pack, assist Head Warrior)
Healers: Lilu
(Wolves with a good knowledge of herbs and remedies)
Trackers: Ashenhildt
(Wolves who track game or traitors, assist Head Tracker)
Crafters: N'Obi
(Wolves who make art or jewelry from hides and stones)
Hunters: Shayde, Cain
(Wolves who hunt game or traitors, assist Head Hunter)
Deltas:
(Wolves who are taught in all talents and excel in none)
Omegas:
(Wolves who are weak and defenseless, female only)
Pups: Skye/Skyler
(Wolves under 6 months of age - no rank yet)



Pack of the Northern Mountains
Alpha Male:
(Male leader of the pack, to be chosen by Alpha Female)
Alpha Female: Maia
(Female leader of the pack)
Beta Male: Samreth
(Second in command to the alphas)
Beta Female:
(Second in command to the alphas, to be chosen by Beta Male)
Head Hunter: Lilith
(Most skilled hunter)
Head Tracker
(Most skilled tracker)
Shamans: Tanga
(Healers with an innate spiritual connection)
Head Warrior:
(Most skilled warrior)
Master Hunters:
(Skilled and knowledgeable hunters who have proven their worth)
Hunters: Aspen, Fey, Sparrow
(Wolves who hunt game or traitors, assist Head Hunter)
Trackers:
(Wolves who track game or traitors, assist Head Tracker)
Healers:
(Wolves with a good knowledge of herbs and remedies)
Warriors: Griffin, Amos, Larkspur
(Wolves who fight to defend their pack, assist Head Warrior)
Deltas: Serafina
(Wolves with varied skills and considerable intellect)
Crafters:
(Wolves who make art or jewelry from hides and stones)
Omegas: Amara
(Wolves who are weak of body and/or mind, not to be trusted with anything of importance)



Pack of the Eastern Shores
Alpha Male:
(Male leader of the pack, to be chosen by Alpha Female)
Alpha Female: Belladonna
(Female leader of the pack)
Beta Male: Delano
(Second in command to the alphas)
Beta Female:
(Second in command to the alphas, to be chosen by Beta Male)
Next in Line:
(Firstborn pup of the alphas)
Senior Deltas: Abaddon
(Wolves with high intelligence who have gained favor with the alphas or betas)
~The following ranks are not higher or lower than each other in the pack hierarchy
Master Crafter:
(A wolf who is highly skilled in more than one craft)
Master Jeweler: Myra
(A wolf who is highly skilled at making jewelry and accessories)
Master Smith:
(A wolf who is highly skilled in smithing and glass making)
Master Instrumentalist:
(A wolf who is highly skilled at making instruments)
Master Courturier:
(A wolf who is highly skilled at making clothing or rugs/tapestries)
~
Shamans/Healers: Lokah
(Wolves with a good knowledge of herbs and remedies, shamans have an innate spiritual connection as well)
Head Tracker:
(Most skilled tracker)
Head Hunter:
(Most skilled hunter)
Head Warrior:
(Most skilled warrior)
Deltas: Serhilde, Nicolette, Blackbird
(Male or female who has mated to a higher rank *ex. Delta Tracker*, can also be a wolf born into a high ranking with no set talent)
~The following ranks are not higher or lower than each other in the pack hierarchy
Crafters: Fenrick
(Wolves who practice more than one craft)
Jewelers: Opal
(Wolves who make jewelry and accessories)
Smiths: Finch
(Wolves who work with metal and glass)
Instrumentalists: Anna
(Wolves who make instruments)
Couturiers: Katrina, Stelio
(Wolves who make clothing and rugs/tapestries)
~
Tutors: Phaedrus
(Wolves who educate pups and adolescents, usually an older fae or brute)
Chefs: Elia
(Wolves who cook and sell different varieties of cuisine)
Trackers: Devin
(Wolves who seek out individuals and deliver messages, some are hired to spy on other wolves)
Hunters: Sham
(Wolves who hunt game, usually hired by chefs)
Warriors: Arlington
(Wolves who are strong and brave, usually hired by higher ranks as bodyguards)
Omegas: Melanie
(Wolves who have been cast out from society - usually beggars or thieves)
Pups: Hamish
(Wolves under 1 year who haven't started their apprenticeships yet)

Loners: Lia, Roan, Freyne, Finvarra, Findabhair, Kirsten, Beau, Jesse, Athena, Eliot, Acadia
(Wolves who live in none of the three packs)

[The Royal Mirage]

Navigation:
Intro
Pack Cultures
Rules
Ranks and Characters
Sign ups (you are here)

Before filling this sheet out, please note: If you have not read my rules the first time, I will not accept you any time after *unless your character is too amazing to refuse, but I digress*. Read the rules!

I ask that you please use the sign up sheet provided:

Code: Select all

[b]Player name:[/b]
[b]Pack:[/b]
[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Age:[/b]
[b]Sex:[/b]
[b]Scent:[/b]
[b]Body Type:[/b]
[b]Pelt color:[/b]
[b]Markings:[/b]
[b]Eye Color:[/b]
[b]Other Details:[/b] (bangs, scars, earrings, necklaces, whatever)
[b]Personality:[/b]
[b]Likes:[/b]
[b]Dislikes:[/b]
[b]Main Talent:[/b] (hunting, tracking, socializing, etc.)
[b]Weak Point(s) (at least 3):[/b]
[b]Fear(s):[/b]
[b]Song:[/b] (optional)
[b]History:[/b] (optional)
[b]Desired Rank:[/b]
[b]Current Rank:[/b]
[b]Crush:[/b]
[b]Mate:[/b]
[b]Relatives and Pups:[/b] (please specify)
[b]Pic:[/b] (optional)
[b]RP Example:[/b] (It is now required that, attached to your sign up, you must also write a paragraph or two of role playing. This is to see if you are literate enough to keep up with this rp, I don't want to see any chat-speak or gruesome grammar/spelling errors!)


[The Royal Mirage]

Any unwritten histories for my characters will either be explained in the roleplay, or written at a later date. Forms will be subject to upgrades and tweaks every so often.

"My secret side I keep hidden under lock and key, I keep it caged but I can't control it. 'Cause if I let him out he'll tear me up and break me down, why won't somebody come and save me from this?"
Player name: The Royal Mirage
Pack: Pack of the Western Forest
Name: Given name is Castor, however he adapted the name Gemini as a pup
Age: Around 2 and a half
Gender: Male
Scent: Gemini smells strongly of flickering fires and smoke, but the fresh scent of rain is buried deep in his velvety soft fur.
Body Type: Average height for a male wolf, though he appears smaller most of the time due to his timid stance. His long legs are thinly muscled, his chest narrow, and his body gives off an aura of gentleness. In a way, he still looks like a teenager, not yet fully grown, though there is no growing left for this shy brute.
Pelt color: Gemini's coat is a smoky coal black, the kind of black you expect to see on a foggy night. It's a matte color, even in the sun his dark pelt barely shines, giving off the softer qualities of velvet rather than silk.
Markings: His back and ears are speckled with golden freckles, which take every opportunity to shimmer and dance in whatever light they can find. He also has a golden stripe under each eye, with more freckles along his cheekbones, lighting up his soft eyes.
Eye Color: Gemini's eyes are a shade of deep amethyst, a hue which never seems to truly decide whether it wants to be blue or purple, looking like one or the other depending on his mood.
Other Details: He has several scars from battle hidden under his plush fur, the worst of which is the one on his chest. He has a few wispy hairs atop his head, but nothing longer than that ever grows. Unlike most wolves in his pack, he does not often adorn himself with his war prizes, except sometimes during the winter with his wolverine-fur hooded cloak.
Personality: This is where things start to get.. complicated. Gemini's personality is that of a weak and defenseless baron, a wisp in the wind. His soft spoken tone and careful steps are all one must see to know he is less than confident. He's smart, almost unfairly so, and is an excellent healer in his own right, though most don't exactly pay attention to this knowledge once they've really seen him..

Castor is ferocious. He's got the mean spirit, cunning, and brute strength of a wolverine-bear-lynx trapped inside his small body. Wolves twice his size whimper at his snarls, and end up with terrible wounds after a fight (which, of course, Gemini tries to help heal). Around doves, he's incorrigible, being a smooth talking ladies wolf until the adrenaline wears off.

Now I know you must be confused, so here's the simple fact of it - Gemini has a split personality. When he is himself, Gemini, he's the kindest baron you'll ever meet, if not a bit of a wimp. But as soon as he or one of his pack mates is threatened or in danger, Castor comes out. The sad part is, when he returns to normal, Gemini seldom remembers any of what happened, seeing only bloodied wolves cowering away from him and wanting nothing more than to help them
Likes: Gemini likes exploring the forest, watching bunnies hop around (he thinks they're so cute), visiting the Southern pack grounds in the winter *so that he doesn't have to be the only leader*, a clear pond on a hot day, curling up with a sweet fae *not that he ever has, foreveralone*, fresh snow on the ground, a good mud puddle.
Castor, however, likes few things. He likes when others are intimidated by him, when doves croon and sigh at his paws. Occasionally, he enjoys whispering into Gemini's mind and scaring the meek alpha. But above all he loves the thrill of the fight, the satisfaction of the kill, and the rusty taste of blood on his lips..
Dislikes: Gemini doesn't like blistering hot days, hunting, cold days without snow *it's only fun if you can play in the snow*, seeing his pack mates hurt.
Castor doesn't like being trapped within Gemini, and when he's out, he dislikes pretty much anything he sets eyes on.
Main Talent: Gemini is an excellent healer, though his best talent is probably his quick thinking and brains. Castor's main talent.. well, do I even need to explain?
Weak Point(s) (at least 3): Gemini is extremely shy, especially around pretty faes, and it is not uncommon for his voice to crack and squeak with nerves. He can be clumsy at times, and his body is not well suited to jostling (normally). He mumbles a lot and mainly keeps to himself.
Fear(s): Most of all, Gemini fears his blackouts. He fears when Castor takes over, though he is unaware that he hasn't just fainted. He is afraid of most big or fearsome predators around the territory, and is especially scared of telling a fae how he feels for her.
Song: Monster - Skillet
History: Gemini was born in the Pack of the Western Forest, descendant of the great Clodoveo, the second of two twin pups of the alphas. He was given the name Castor, and his brother, the elder twin, Pollux. It soon became clear, however, that the two balls of black fluff were very ill. Pollux seemed to be faring better, occasionally nuzzling at the barely breathing form of Castor. The mother and father were heartbroken as they watched their sons suffer, Pollux curling up around his twin as he too began to decline further in health. Their mother urged them to nurse, nudging the pups with her nose, but neither one would disentangle themselves from the other.
Two days passed in this way, their mother's tears having permanently stained her cheeks, as she grieved her dying pups. Neither parent could bring themselves to put the pups out of their misery, hoping beyond all doubt that the pups would survive.
On the third day, the two pups, once roly-poly, pudgy, content, were little more than soft fur stretched over bones. Their father had had to fight for his title all through the pup's illness, as other members of the pack saw the opportunity to take over his position. The alpha returned from a bad fight, his paws tracking blood into the den of the sick pups. His mate's cries grew louder, she knew there was no hope left anymore, and that the pups would need to be sent back to the earth. She couldn't watch as her mate padded towards the two pups, tears shimmering in his own eyes as he dreaded what he had to do..
And then, Pollux gave a low whine. It was a sound that drew forth from his tiny pup maw of it's own account, as the larger black fluff stilled. The elder twin no longer breathed. In that moment, a high whine came from the shriveled throat of Castor, along with the rumblings of a puppy growl. He made a few futile nips at his dead brother's tail, before shuffling as best he could to his mother's stomach to drink.
In that bittersweet moment, the alphas smiled and sobbed. Castor grew healthy quickly, and was renamed Gemini, so that he would always know his twin was out there looking over him. No one knew in that moment what the scrawny pup had become.
Desired Rank: He'd like to be a healer, but is proud of his alpha heritage (even if he believes he doesn't deserve it)
Current Rank: Alpha Male
Crush: None yet
Mate: None
Relatives and Pups: Pollux (brother), Didrugaredd (father), Peryglus (mother) (all dead)
Pic:
RP Example:



"I'm glad you're by my side, exchanging patterns of breath in the cold.."
Player name: The Royal Mirage
Pack: Pack of the Northern Mountains
Name: Maia (Short for Amalia, no one knows except her sister Lia)
Age: 3 and a half, a few minutes younger than Lia
Gender: Female
Scent: Maia's scent is almost undetectable even to the most well-trained nose - she smells of the fresh winds that blow throughout the mountains, as well as a hint of the crystal-clear pond secluded deep within the labyrinth of tunnels on the mountain side.
Body Type: Tall for a fae, with long legs that lead to small paws and a slim yet sturdy-looking figure. Her features are sharp, her muscles wiry and strong from hunting, running, and climbing. Her tail is long and slender with silken fur that ripples like waves in the wind, and it is just the right length to help her keep balance in even the most awkward positions.
Pelt color: An odd slate gray, which shimmers iridescently in the sun to appear bluish-purple. In moonlight, she appears to be a silvery, iron gray.
Markings: Maia's markings may appear strange to some, though anyone who knows her family and/or lineage knows it's something to be expected and respected. A dorsal stripe, the color of coal, travels from her hips to the bridge of her nose, where it curves out on both sides of her face into little swirls. 8 sharp stripes run from her shoulder to her hip. The swirls were a representation of alpha heritage in her old pack, while the stripes represent a fierce and respectful hunter. She has some lighter patches of fur, most notably along her chest and belly, with hardly noticeable rings of this color running all down her tail.
Eye Color: Maia's eyes are one feature about her that can be a bit underwhelming to those expecting the fierce, determined look an alpha usually carries. They are wide-set and open, the same color as turquoise.
Other Details: She has a tuft of coal black fur atop her head, which is usually pulled back into a messy ponytail.
Personality: Maia is the kind of fae who doesn't seem like she could hurt a fly. She's generally very happy and outgoing, being the first to introduce herself and her peers. Very sociable, gets along with most wolves she meets. Quick to offer a smile, and one of the most loyal friends you could have. The bubbly fae carries herself with pride and dignity, but in such a way that none could mistake it for arrogance.
Despite seeming quite carefree, Maia holds concern for her friends and her pack in the highest order, and isn't the best at handling awkward or tough situations on her own. During times like those, she usually calls upon her sisters' help.
Likes: Ice crystals when they've just begun to drip, snowy paw prints, the first rains of spring, watching fawns chase after their mothers, the scent of pups, rolling in long grass, sunsets that light up the mountains, orchids (not that she has many chances to see them)
Dislikes: The taste of fish meat, getting water in her ears, and when her sisters gang up on her. Cannot stand wolves who are: cocky, gloomy, or snippy.
Main Talent: A born hunter, Maia can take down just about anything with skill and grace
Weak Point(s) (at least 3): Maia has little creative talent, and can be painfully oblivious at times. She's also not one to jump to negative conclusions, which can end up being dangerous for her or her pack in the long run.
Fear(s): Losing her sisters, being alone, being trapped (she's VERY claustrophobic)
Song: Crystallize
History: Born in a faraway land, Maia and her sister Lia were the two pups of the alphas. Maia was the second born, and was to become a beta, but as the pair grew and Maia proved to be the stronger of the two she was renamed the heir to the alphas. Even so, she has always been envious of Lia's good looks, and became the same for Lilith when she came along. Her mother died shortly after birth, leaving the parenting of the two sisters to their father.
He was a kind baron, if not a bit old to be having pups, and his experience was shared in great amounts with his little girls. Maia was taught how to hunt with deadly accuracy, and to respect her kill by wasting nothing. Her father felt it was imperative that his daughter knew how to provide for her pack, and his insistence proved a useful tool in her training. She was younger than a year old when Maia was promoted to head huntress of the pack, her skills unparalleled and speed unmatched.
It wasn't long until Maia's father took another mate, a huntress by the name Aiyana, after challenging and banishing her previous mate and pup from the territory. The pair had another daughter, a navy blue dove by the name of Lilith, that the sisters instantly adopted into the family (and teased incessantly).
An unfortunate incident a couple years later caused the sisters, along with their younger half sister Lilith and the healer Tanga, to leave the pack in search of something more. They came across the pack of the northern mountains completely by chance, and joined.
Maia was soon a well respected member of the great hunter's pack, learning their culture and being known as a Master hunter, along with her younger sister. When the alpha was killed falling from a cliff-face, it was not the beta who was named the new alpha, but Maia, as she was seen to exemplify the qualities that the pack treasured the most.
Desired Rank: She's happy where she is.
Current Rank: Alpha Female
Crush: None, not really looking
Mate: She's not exactly interested in finding a mate just yet, and really hates when guys go overboard with wooing her just because she's the alpha (not that she notices unless they go overboard)
Relatives and Pups: Lia (sister, loner), Lilith (half sister, head huntress), Delano (step brother, beta of eastern shores), Tanga (adopted sister, shaman)
Pic:
RP Example:



"I used to be your lap dog... now I'm just a stray."
Player name: The Royal Mirage
Pack: Pack of the Eastern Shores
Name: Delano
Age: 5 years
Gender: male
Scent: Delano's scent is an unusual one for the wolves of the shores, being musky and rich, with hints of pine and blood buried deep in the silken silver locks.
Body Type: Sturdy and strong, but thin and lithe in the right places. His chest is wide, ribs well-sprung for easy air-flow, and wiry muscles cover his tall form to create a silhouette altogether too pleasing to the eye.
Pelt color: Delano's pelt is the exact hue of pure, polished silver, and seems to shimmer with the same metallic permanence. While his silken fur is quite shaggy, uncharacteristic of the wolves of the Eastern Shores, it gives him a rugged, devil-may-care air that faes just can't resist.
Markings: Blackened navy markings line under his dangerously sharp eyes, three ragged stripes under the right, and an elegant swirl beneath the left. His dark bangs usually cover his left eye completely though, so few have ever seen it. A dark dorsal stripe flows from the top of his head straight down his back, and fully engulfs his tail, with darker shading along the bottom of it. The longer fur along his chin, jaw, etc. is tipped with the same blackened navy, as well as the bottoms of his paws and the rims of his ears
Eye Color: His eyes are a hard, stony emerald - the kind of color and clarity that cannot be found even in the stones his pack so heavily praises - with ribbons of warm gold woven throughout.
Other Details: Long, shaggy, silken bangs cover much of the left side of his face, and that's the way he likes it. On his front left paw, three golden stripes are tattooed onto his paw pad.
Personality: For those who don't know him well (and some who do) Delano is almost void of personality. He cares little for others emotionally, doesn't allow himself to really, though he does care a great deal about the survival of his pack. He has a very military attitude on things, logic reigning over his thoughts and emotions - this, as well as his skills in hunting and fighting, makes him a bit of an outcast among his pack mates.

Surrounded by the inauthenticity of his pack mates, Delano is easily agitated and can get dangerous if his irritation is permitted to grow. It is because of this that most wolves leave him alone, apart from unknowing rank-lovers who are new to the pack.

Despite his hard outer shell, he has a soft and rather fragile heart. He's been broken too many times, and hides away his emotions from everyone around him. Because of this, he will often abandon someone at the first sign of fondness within himself, not wanting to be the one who gets hurt.
Likes: Delano doesn't really like much, though snow is something he openly adores (well, as openly as HE could adore something). Even though he dislikes the cold and wet, snow is just something Delano cannot bring himself to hate. He is made content by winning arguments or having his ideas validated by the wolf he was arguing with, and finds an odd sort of enjoyment for fighting and hunting.
Dislikes: The disingenuousness of the wolves in his pack, and their "over-the-top" manners. Hates getting wet, his silky fur isn't built for water. A whiny or over-dramatic wolf will earn his annoyance easily, as well as anyone who cannot do things for themselves.
Main Talent: Delano was born and raised to be a hunter, though due to this he is also an excellent and efficient fighter. Since both traits go rather unused in his current pack however, his wits have become a much more powerful tool.
Weak Point(s) (at least 3): His heart is his weakest point, but also his most well protected; his temper can be a big issue concerning his social life, though he doesn't particularly care about having friends; he's sensitive about the swirl marking below his left eye, it is meant to represent 'royalty' in his birth pack.
Fear(s): His only fear is letting someone into his heart again.
Song: Radioactive
History: -
Desired Rank: Feh
Current Rank: Beta Male
Crush: None of these pansies
Mate: If he feels like it
Relatives and Pups: Probably has several litters of pups that he doesn't know about (having left his mates soon after pupping them), Lia (step-sister, loner), Maia (step-sister, alphess of Northern Mountains), Lilith (half sister, head huntress of Northern Mountains)
Pic:
RP Example:



"Women are almost always prettier when they are shrouded in mystery. I can never be as pretty as you imagine, and I would never ruin something like that for you. Would it not be better to imagine?"
Player name: The Royal Mirage
Pack: Pack of the Northern Mountains
Name: Lilith
Age: 2 and a half
Gender: Female
Scent: Lilith's scent is something special, at least her friends say so. It can be sweet and fresh sometimes like summer rain and morning dew, it can be spicy and cool like crisp autumn leaves, and sometimes it's the inexplicable scent of fresh summer grass on the wind. Even with the new environment, her scent has not changed much, though it has taken on a bit of a crisper, cooler undertone in her travels, like that of fresh fallen snow.
Body Type: An overall picture of willowy rebellion, Lilith is rarely seen for the beautiful dove she is, mostly because of her odd markings and mask. A first glance, her proud stance, tall height, and slender body give off the impression of refined, acute power. Her beautifully long legs reach upwards to a slender torso, wiry muscles just visible beneath her thin silken fur. Her neck arches in a proud, yet oddly elegant fashion, leading into the languid curves and sharp tips of her tall ears. Those who look at her more closely, however, see the subtle feminine curves along her slender back and torso, the coy bow of her banner-like tail. Her silent hunter's steps then become a full-fledged saunter, filled with self-confidence and pride that she more or less lacks. Her face, usually hidden beneath a bone mask, conceals a heartbreaking smile and dark brows which only accent her seeking eyes.
Pelt color: The color of midnight is infused into the thin, silky strands, with flecks of silver which flash every now and then like stars in the sky. Her silvery undercoat can only be seen around the dip of her ankles, and along the curves of her ears, the color flashing with even the slightest of motions.
Markings: Each of Lilith's toes are a chilling ivory white, the color of bone that has been cleaned of all traces of life, and she loathes to have them dirty. Beneath her eyes, two blue swirls line her bottom lid and lead into a simple curl, accenting her angular cheekbones as well as her wide almond eyes. Another swirl runs vertically along the center line of her face, curling at her forehead with a tiny diamond directly between the swirls. This marking is mirrored on her mask. Beneath the bone armor over her back are 4 stunning blue stripes, though these will never be seen.
Eye Color: Lilith's eyes are an anomaly to many, appearing the dark teal of murky waters most of the time. With the slightest hint of sunshine however, they are transformed into a captivating Caribbean blue that you just can't help staring into. Her eyes show her emotions as well, being the dark stormy blue of an angry hurricane at times, or the peaceful and exotic silver of moonlight.
Other Details: Lilith was raised to wear a variety of bone-carved markings in her birth pack. Each adornment and marking means something, and even after changing packs so many times, Lilith has held onto tradition, even added to it. The mask she wears is made from moose antler, having been carefully shaped and carved to fit her face, and her face alone. The recreation of her facial marking is carved into it and painted with the blood of her ancestors, giving off a faint reddish tint. She was fitted with the bones over her back as an adolescent, covering her hunter's markings with extra protection which cannot be removed. In addition to these traditional adornments, Lilith has also decorated her tail with three bone rings, giving her better control and, in turn, better balance.
Personality: A locked diary in a cardboard box, Lilith's personality holds almost too many different multitudes to be explored at once. She is coy, the flirtiness of her younger years having calmed through her journeys, and she has learned to keep a much closer eye on her heart. She feels no need to please others if they have no significance to her, and this can come off as self-centered or even rude at times, though she doesn't mean to be. She has quite an eye for fine adornments, something not particularly encouraged in her new pack, but she greatly enjoys doing trade with the Eastern wolves whenever the full moon rolls around. She is extremely loyal to her sisters and Tanga, her best friend, and is also quite protective of the little shaman. She can also be quite dependent upon her little family, seeing as she sometimes lapses into an inconsolable sadness. She is brave and bold in the face of fear, willing to take on a bear or mountain lion if it were ever needed. Lilith has a keen interest in pack histories and stories of ancestors - she could just listen to shamans and storytellers talk all through the night and day. So many sides of her conflict with one another as well; she is outgoing yet reserved, curious yet cautious, confident but doubtful, the list goes on. Over the years, Lilith has developed a rather touchy sense of dignity, and can get rather cross when made a fool of. Throughout all her ins and outs, Lilith is mostly known for her silence - she is very quiet towards those she does not know well, apart from giving mandatory feedback during or before hunts. It is her silence and her appearance that scare most wolves into keeping their distance, and her guarded nature that keeps out those who try to get close.
Likes: Dancing in the rain, though it holds a bittersweetness in her heart, is one activity she would never pass up, especially if it were a thunderstorm. Home brewed tea, tiny ripe strawberries, cinnamon sticks, cherry blossoms and the faint scent of fresh mint and eucalyptus are all tastes and smells that help her to relax. She enjoys adrenaline hunting every now and then, sometimes going off on cliff-diving escapades with her older sister Lia. Crisp autumn leaves and sunsets in the snow never go unappreciated by the shadowy dove
Dislikes: She does not like having her ears touched or toyed with, a faint hole-shaped scar in her left ear most probably showing why. She is distrustful of brutes, especially the kind who seem to be covered with faes, and will sometimes develop a great disdain for the male without ever meeting him. She isn't quite afraid of water, though considering her history you'd think she really should be. She more dislikes the bone-chilling cold that sets in after being completely drenched.
Main Talent: Lilith is first and foremost a hunter, being swift, silent, and strong, but has a myriad of other talents. She's known for being able to avoid most confrontations, though when in a fight she seldom loses the match
Weak Point(s) (at least 3): Black brutes. She almost cannot even stand to look at a black brute without going into a deep sadness. Lilith's boldness in dangerous situations oftentimes leads to her being badly injured, the scars hidden under her fur proving as much. Despite being a born leader, she takes no pleasure in taking charge when Maia needs her to. Even being Head hunter is more responsibility than she truly wants, but Maia would trust no one else with the job.
Fear(s): Above all else, Lilith fears something bad happening to her family.
Song: Light Bulb was her original theme, which may or may not return in time. Currently, I feel The Lonely fits her better though
History: -
Desired Rank: She's fine where she is, though just being a regular hunter would be nice too...
Current Rank: Head Hunter
Crush: Not willing to let anyone in
Mate: Nope
Relatives and Pups: Lia (half sister, loner), Maia (half sister, alphess of Northern Mountains), Delano (half brother, beta male of Eastern Shores), Tanga (adopted sister and best friend)
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RP Example:



"I wish plant life would grow all around me."
Player name: The Royal Mirage
Pack: Pack of the Northern Mountains
Name: Tanga
Age: 2
Gender: Female
Scent: The overwhelming scent of fresh herbs, spicy-bitter and clear, clings to each curled coppery tendril of fur. If one were to separate Tanga from her work for a while, however, they would reveal her true scent to be the delicious and irresistible sweetness of ripe peaches.
Body Type: A petite little thing, Tanga only stands about half as tall as the average fae, though her body is well proportioned for the most part. Her defined legs aren't long, but carry no hint of stockiness either, and lead up to a well-sprung rib cage and thin waist, giving her a curvy, pixie-ish appearance. Her face is made up of soft yet angular strokes, her tiny nose and maw leading elegantly into her wide, child-like eyes. Her ears are quite large and tall, with curly tufts of fur at the tip, and combined with her over-sized fluffy tail only serve to make her look even more petite than she actually is. She doesn't mind her size however, except when treating extremely tall wolves.
Pelt color: Tanga's minky-plush pelt is the color of honeyed gold, with copper flecks riddled over her shoulders and cheekbones. Each strand curls to delicately frame each feminine feature, the longer fur around her neck and chest only serving to accent their elegant arch and slopes.
Markings: Her pelt is riddled with matte copper and silver tones, the copper tipping the tops of her long ears and trailing over her hackles. Copper ringlets also circle around her bushy tail much in the fashion of a raccoon's, and shimmer lightly whenever it twitches in excitement. A bib of silvery fur travels along her chest, down through her forelegs, and along her belly, fully engulfing her two hind legs. Her hind paws are a pristine snowy white, while her fore paws are the same warm russet of her adorable freckles. Overall, she is a picture of innocent sweetness, cute more so than coy.
Eye Color: Her wide, slightly slanted eyes are a pale green hue, surrounded in curly, deep mocha-hued lashes.
Other Details: Curly bangs frame her pixie features, feeling plushy soft to the touch, and russet strands of fur curl back from the tip of each elongated ear.
Personality: Tanga is a fun-loving fae, being bouncy and hyperactive most of the time, almost pup-like in her behavior. Her compassion and sympathy are unwavering, and she will never refuse someone in need no matter their past. Tanga can get a little over-worried though, especially when she's unsure of how something will turn out. She's serious when it's necessary, but is mostly just a little ball of sunshine. One fault she's been known to have is also what she values most about herself - she puts all others above herself, keeping her pack and friends her top priorities, while her own welfare is lower down on the list. Can be a bit goofy and has never been known to hold a grudge. Despite being called a shaman, she has never outwardly displayed any spiritual connections in front of her pack mates (Lilith excluded)
Likes: Tanga is easily amused, finding a little bit of joy in almost anything. Taking care of her pack mates is something she enjoys greatly, even if she also feels bad that they aren't feeling well. She loves the scent of cinnamon and fresh brewed tea, the light of flickering flames, the gentle beauty of butterfly wings, fresh fruit (and collecting it), flower petals, morning dew, foggy days, mud puddles, crystal lakes in the middle of the night. She loves to tell and hear old stories and myths, her favorite being one about a turtle family and an orphaned otter. Her favorite fruit is peaches, of course, and her favorite flower is the calla lily.
Dislikes: Tanga doesn't like storms, oddly enough, despite her almost-sister being such a big fan, and prefers to wait in their den and prepare tea for after Lilith is done gallivanting. She does not tolerate arrogant or aggressive behavior towards herself or her friends, and can be quite fiery when (verbally) defending herself. Most of all, she hates being treated like she can't do anything simply because of her size.
Main Talent: Healing
Weak Point(s) (at least 3): Because of her small stature, Tanga is obviously not meant to fight, and her hunting skills are less than sub-par. She can hardly catch a rabbit even with her hardest effort. She cares a lot about her pack, but pays little attention to herself when she is in need.
Fear(s): Above all else, Tanga fears being alone. Ever since she was abandoned near Maia, Lia and Lilith's old pack, she has been absolutely petrified of being on her own.
Song: Parade (Instrumental)
History: -
Desired Rank: She's happy where she is
Current Rank: Shaman
Crush: None at the moment
Mate: Unlikely
Relatives and Pups: Lia (adopted sister, loner), Maia (adopted sister, alphess), Lilith (adopted sister, head huntress), Lotus (sister, not rp'd)
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RP Example:



"... I'm here to teach you to fly; I'll drop you where you're ready to soar."
Player name: The Royal Mirage
Pack: None (loner)
Name: Lia (full name is Rosalia, only her sister Maia knows)
Age: 3 and a half, a few minutes older than Maia
Gender: Female
Scent: Lia's glossy fur, untainted by a mixed pack scent, is imbued with the simple yet irresistible essence of wildflowers in full bloom. Sometimes you can catch a musky hint in her fur, like pine and molasses, though it is rare.
Body Type: Made up of sultry curves and dips, Lia's got the kind of body that can drive you wild without ever moving a muscle. Seductive lines caress her womanly figure, long and slenderly muscled legs leading up to coyly shrugged shoulders, her thin waist accenting voluptuous hips that sway with each effortless step. Her thin neck is nearly always arched in a playful 'come-hither' stance, her thick, silky ruff only accenting and embellishing the motion, almost compelling males to brush against her steady yet yielding frame. In truth, past all the unobtainable beauty, she doesn't look quite fit to be a loner, having little muscle anywhere but her legs and a bit at her torso. Her appearance is that of opulent pampering, her long lustrous tail and flawless white pelt looking as if she has never roughed it in the wild a day in her life. Despite this, she is hardy and smart, as well as able to survive off of meager rations.
Pelt color: Her soft pelt is an odd feel, more like the fur of a rabbit than that of a wolf, and its incredible softness combined with the purity of her moonbeam coloring lures others to her with an easy grace. Each strand of untouched white shimmers iridescently like moonstone in the softest of light, and at night she could be mistaken for the moon itself with her pelt's ethereal glow.
Markings: Much like her sisters, Lia also carries the regal markings of her homeland. Having been the firstborn, and therefore the rightful alpha heir, Lia was born with extensive swirls along the center line of her face and under her eyes which glimmer a deeper, impressive silver. Regal swirling patterns also curve and fade down from the tips of her ears in much the same colour as her facial markings, causing a little extra sparkle with each flick of her audits.
Eye Color: It would be almost cruel to call such beautiful gemstones emeralds, holding tones of baby grass shoots, broad tropical leaves, finely worked silks and the fairest of expensive gems, all riddled through with ribbons of pure gold.
Other Details: Sleek, satiny silver-white bangs frame her flawless features - it seems not even a tornado could make her appear unkempt, only enhance her to the more savage splendor of an angered goddess.
Personality: An oddly quiet, secretive dove, with a past she's not very proud of, Lia is a mystery to even her closest friends. She can be fun and flirty one moment, yet cold and detached the next. Sometimes considered rude, though if you're boring her then it's not like you deserve her manners anyways. She doesn't like being around lots of wolves, preferring the more solitary life of a loner, but hangs around the Northern pack to keep an eye on her sisters. She is fiercely protective of them, and even if she's not the strongest fae out there, she can be very intimidating when she needs to be. Lia is easily annoyed by arrogance or incompetence, even though she herself could be considered to have either trait on any occasion. She can be snappy and cold when interrupted during her quiet time, but loves busting in on her friends (or her step-brother) when they seem caught up in other things. Despite her less-than-positive attitude and respect for social cues, she has many friends throughout each of the three packs. When you get close to her, she is almost painfully open about things, and is a huge adrenaline junkie. If it's dangerous, you can count Lia in.
Likes: As was explained, Lia loves the rush of adrenaline. She will seek it out of boredom or joy, simply reveling in the rush it gives her. It is in this way that she avoids thinking about more serious subjects, simply losing herself in her own sensations. She likes being on her own or with one or two close friends, strong gale winds, fields filled with wildflowers.. She takes a great deal of pleasure toying with a brute's emotions, though prefers it when he tries to play right back.
Dislikes: Honestly, Lia is not an amiable fae, so it annoys her when other wolves try to make friends with her. She doesn't like dull or goody-goody wolves, or wolves who take things too seriously. Doesn't like being rooted to one place, or anyone who tries to keep her in one place. she cannot stand to have her fur dirtied for any amount of time, and takes great pains to keep it looking the way it does.
Main Talent: Lia has an odd talent for healing, though one would almost never guess it.
Weak Point(s) (at least 3): Not at all a strong swimmer, though she can tread water long enough to get out usually. Her bedside manner, all manners really, are rather lacking, though some see it as endearing. She's not a fighter by any means, and has a bit of a weak nose.
Fear(s): Lia fears that she is not good enough, or that she will not be good enough. It's an odd fear for one so fair, but she knows that someday she will find someone worth settling down with, and knows she is bound to mess it up. She fears losing happiness in life, the same way she fears losing her sisters.
Song: She's an Angel
History: -
Desired Rank: Loner
Current Rank: Loner
Crush: None
Mate: None
Relatives and Pups: Maia (sister, alphess of northern mountains), Lilith (half sister, head huntress of northern mountains), Delano (step brother, beta of eastern shores), Tanga (adopted sister, shaman of northern mountains)
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RP Example: XP



"Everyday words seem to turn into love songs."
Player name: The Royal Mirage
Pack: Pack of the Eastern Shores
Name: Opal
Age: 2 and a half years of age
Gender: Female, of course
Scent: Opal wears a homemade perfume the scent of sweet wild roses, it seems to follow her wherever she goes. Her true scent however is one few have ever known, the clear and fresh scent of damp cave breezes, entrancing and enchanting those who catch its subtle hues.
Body Type: Opal's body is one which leads memories back in time, to the era of the classic beauty. She's soft and curvy in all the right places, lazy slopes and strokes effortlessly arching along the plush crest of her neck, the smooth curve of her abdomen, and the bow of her tail. Her long legs are substantial, though show no real defining muscle, as with much of the rest of her, giving the image of effortless grace and fluidity with every lift and dip. Her stride is the long, unpracticed grace showing in every slightly bouncy stride and placement of dainty paws. Her body gives the overall impression of one who is not strong, but never thought to be weak, with all the curves and softness one could ever hope to bury their nose in. She is a true treasure just as her work is, meant to be sought after and admired with vigor and tenderness.
Pelt color: In the summer, her pelt is the colour of soft white sand, feeling more like longer strands of plush velveteen. In winter however, the base coat lightens to a pure, snowy white, which shimmers with all the fire and softness of her namesake in the sunlight.
Markings: A more golden sandy hue trails from her petite muzzle and chin along her defined cheekbones, drifting with a soft insistence to cover her chest and curve along her abdomen, finishing finally along the underside of her plush yet silky tail. Streaks and markings the shade of sweet lavender blooms travel along her elegantly bowed neck and the tip of her tail, engulfing each of her dainty yet careful toes as well. Her brows also mold themselves to this sweet hue with a darker strip beneath to highlight her cheekbones, bringing out her slanted eyes and gentle gaze.
Eye Color: Opal's eyes are one of the many eye-catching features that make up the cultured fae. Their shade is a sweetened magenta that is often mistaken for ruby, and the gems themselves rival even her finest work. Each crystalline orb is engulfed in slanted, almond-shaped lids, lined with lashes black as pitch, with curls that lure brutes into their almost hypnotic depths. Despite the beauty and elegance that is clearly portrayed within the fuchsia orbs, there is a sadness there, deep within, that few ever have the chance to see.
Other Details: It is not uncommon to see Opal traipsing about camp wearing any number of her new creations, though her favorites are a pair of sterling silver bracers with floral jeweled patterns running along them, and fine sheer silks which engulf her ankles and wrists. During the winter, her fur grows out quite long, though the satiny strands manage still to both hug her figure and blow gently in the frosty breezes. Her hackles grow out quite long in the front, and quite fast, into luscious violet strands that frame her feminine features so perfectly. Sometimes the bangs will stay with her the rest of the year, but sometimes they shed away with the rest of her plush winter coat as soon as spring rolls around. Being native to the shores, she carries a very slight accept in the way she speaks, as if each word is carefully chosen in her head before being beautifully enunciated by her poet's tongue.
Personality: Opal is... Well, at first glance, she is exactly what a lady of high society is meant to be. She is elegant, creative, honorable and educated - she is kind and outgoing, yet respectful and motivated. She is never spoken ill of at parties, her trinkets are well known pack-wide. She attends all events of society, and plays her roles perfectly. She even enjoys doing so, being the calm and collected soul that she is (most of the time). Her never-ending patience for those around her is almost unheard of, and her kindness towards all is a trait so many around her adore. She doesn't tend to 'bait' males, as some call it, preferring to make plenty of friends rather than finding someone to settle down with. She is well aware that her parents will probably pick a suitable mate for her some day, and as long as he is a good wolf whom she can make happy, the thought doesn't bother her, having never felt true romantic inclination towards anyone (despite several past offers). Opal cares very dearly for her family, often spending days with her elderly mother, teaching her how to sew or string beads, and on rarer occasions suffering through lessons of combat. Her father greatly adores when Opal plays her lyre for him. The way she feels about her craft is.. hard to explain. When creating art, it is as if she is making real her fantasies, her dreams forming beneath her steady paws. It is a quiet passion, the kind that fills you up to the brim without pushing at your limits. The only fierce thing about her would be her loyalty to her pack, being born and raised in the shores and hearing its many stories of both triumph and hardship. She has an insatiable curiosity, especially concerning the other two packs, though the stars are also subject to her study. Her excitement and almost casual behavior is something only close friends or the like ever get to see, though even then she gives off the sense that she is still trying to contain the fireworks of her enthusiasm.
Likes: The scent of a fresh ocean breeze, the feel of a damp cave floor, Opal's delights are many a random splendor. Whether it be savoring the spicy-sweetness of a cinnamon bun or the chopped silky softness of a feather, each will make her smile like the sun. She loves big fluffy clouds and broad green leaves, flower buds that are about to bloom. Roses, of course, are a soft-spot for her scent-wise, but be warned if you ever try to give her one: her favorite flower is actually a Sweet Pea, and she is sometimes even called by this name by brutes who know of her fondness towards the little pink flowers. She takes great joy simply laying on the beach and watching the waves as she crafts, enjoying the appearance of the water more than the actual feel of it.
Dislikes: There is not much that Opal openly dislikes, apart from brutish or uncouth wolves. She is generally a very tolerant fae after all. There is one thing, however, which annoys her to no end: having strangers touch her tail. Odd, really, but her tail is quite sensitive to the touch, and only her very closest friends would get off touching it without a hard talking to, or worse.
Main Talent: Her creativity and skill for jeweling is most definitely her main talent, though many among the pack see her patience and respect for social convention as a thorough talent of its own.
Weak Point(s) (at least 3): Opal can be very distrustful, especially of newcomers, though she is quite adept at hiding this fact. Though she acts dainty and kind and overall fulfilled, Opal still feels a deep yearning to search for her missing sister. it gets to the point at times where she will have traveled almost halfway to another pack before turning around again, lost hope shining in her teary orbs. Despite her mother having been a skilled warrior, Opal has none of the qualities of strength or agility, and would not be able to protect herself from foes. Her nose is not sharp to scents, and she must always look or listen around when trying to find someone.
Fear(s): She fears mostly the sea, ironically enough. She almost drowned as a pup, and has been scared of the murky depths ever since. Her only other great fear is that of the fate of her missing twin. She wonders what has become of her, if she is even alive at all.
Song: La Vie en Rose
History: Opal was born in the Pack of the Eastern Shores to a Senior Delta and a lowly warrioress. The union was whispered of, but accepted generally because of her father's close status with the alpha at the time. The pair were so happy to welcome two little faes into their family. Opal and her twin, Amber, were so similar, yet so very different. Opal was the quiet, pensive one, whereas Amber was full to the brim with energy and restless enthusiasm. Despite their differences, the two were nigh inseparable, even into their adolescence.

One fateful evening, during a full-moon gathering, Opal and Amber had run off from the bonfire to explore with a couple friends they had met from the other packs. Awok and Renei, though their names are unimportant, had suggested they all play hide and seek. The pups played for hours under the full moon, until one round, they could not find Amber. At first, they laughed, whispering of how wonderful her hiding spot must be. Then they started to worry, calling out for her to come out. Then they got Citrine and Onyx. Then they got the whole of the three packs. Even with every wolf searching, calling, scenting for little Amber, not a trace of her could be found. Opal refused to leave the next morning. She sat in the middle of the old camp, staring into the remains of the fire pit, pleading with the stars for her twin to be returned to her. Onyx and Citrine waited with her a couple days, but gave up hope when the days turned into a week. The little family was brokenhearted, and returned with empty paws and teary eyes to their home.

Over the years, Opal has mended, and grown into a fae any Eastern baron would be proud to call 'mate'. She has received more courting offers than she could count, and grew in the eyes of society for her beautiful works. But even now, in the happy days of her life, she still misses her other half, her Amber.
Desired Rank: Master Crafter
Current Rank: Jeweler, she dabbles in smithing as well
Crush: She may or may not have her eye on someone.
Mate: None
Relatives and Pups: Her parents, Citrine and Onyx, are two of the older and more respected members of the pack. Her father is a Senior Delta, and is very well respected, whereas her mother had been only a warrior. Both are mostly retired now however, and will be rp'd minimally. She also has a twin sister, Amber, who went missing when the pair were just adolescents.
Pic:
Summer Fur:

Winter Fur (as well as a few things she's crafted):

RP Example:



"Not very pretty, but we sure know how to run things."
Player name: The Royal Mirage
Pack: Pack of the Western Forest
Name: Ruby
Age: 2 and a half years
Gender: Female
Scent: Ruby's scent is often masked with the rusty copper of dried blood, the musky sweetness of fertile soil, and the spicy freshness of pine needles. Seeing as these three commodities are often caught up in her fur, it is understandable, though a bit unsettling. Her true scent gives away much of her past, being the careful heat of a well-loved kiln, combined with the calming scent of freshly oiled leather.
Body Type: Her long fur sticks around all year, obstructing most of her bodily features from regular view. Her legs are long and sturdy, though not to be considered stocky, and lead into a broad chest. One can normally see her strong shoulders, proud back, and supple haunches - if her fur were to become wet or shorn short, her more feminine features would come into view. Her well-sprung ribs curve into a slim waist and long, nicely muscled torso, with hips that are not too large, but noticeable enough. Her lengthy tail is one of the few features her long fur accents, waving like a silken banner (when she pays enough attention to keep it clean). Ruby's facial features are more angular than soft, her dark brows extremely expressive. Overall, she gives off the impression of sturdy rebellion.
Pelt color: Ruby's base coat is the ever changing wildness of desert sands, the pale beige colour making her stand out in the relative darkness of the forest. Not that she minds, it just means she's noticed more often by predators, and as such gets into more fights. It is uncommon to see her without at least a little dirt or blood in her long, tangled fur.
Markings: Her chest, belly, and torso are the same hue as fresh cream, the colour covering her chin and cheeks, as well as the underside of her tail. Honeyed gold colours her hackles, trailing up into her wild bangs, and tip her tail as well. Her expressive eyes are surrounded by gold and beige, beige also tipping the toes of her dangerous paws.
Eye Color: Ruby's eyes are an odd orange-red hue that could only be described as pure, polished amber, though in darkness one may mistake them for a deep ruby hue.
Other Details: Longer patches of fur dot her body, mainly along her chest and torso, elbows, haunches, and tail. This fur could be considered silky, elegant even, if she were to ever keep knots and dirt out of them. Her hackles are abnormally long and trail a bit along her back, and lead into wild bangs that shimmer in the sun.
Personality: Ruby's a real wild child, preferring to go off in search of trouble instead of preventing it. Her rebellious nature is the only thing that has kept her from being acknowledged as a true master warrior, though she herself doesn't resent the fact. She'd rather be off baiting grisly bears than waging wars for the sake of conquest, so that's exactly what she does. She's a very upfront fae, not being shy about her opinion, and while some respect this others often perceive it as rude, even overbearing, seeing as her opinion is not always desired. Her unpredictable nature has earned her both admirers and foes, most faes being put off by her behavior. She doesn't mind that either, preferring to roughhouse with the other brutes, though she secretly craves the sisterly companionship of a female friend. Ruby has a bit of a temper and can get hot-headed when complimented, even if her self-esteem isn't exactly the best. She can be very rough around the edges, with passive-aggressive and sarcastic comments for all, but once she lets you in it's easy to see she simply wants acceptance.
Likes: She has an odd, intense love of digging. Just something about getting dirt in her fur, feeling fresh soil under her claws, it's both soothing and exhilarating for the wild fae. Ruby is always up for a good fight, whether with a sparring partner or a ferocious beast. There's an odd sort of admiration that she has for glass figurines, though Ruby mostly hides this fact with a well planned roll of the eyes. She loves to keep active, whether in the form of running, jumping, climbing trees (which she is oddly adept at), etc. it's all good in her eyes. Oddly enough, she likes sunflower seeds. You can only find sunflowers out near the Central Plains, but she will take the day-long journey in order to collect them for herself.
Dislikes: She doesn't like a lot of 'girly' things - flowers, gemstones, none of it really appeals to her. Romance is something she doesn't care for, though this usually applies to watching it from afar seeing as she's never been in a relationship. She cannot stand wolves who pretend to be someone they are not, even if this is a bit hypocritical for her.
Main Talent: Ruby's main talent is definitely her fighting skills. Part brute strength, part careful planning, part reckless instinct, she comes into combat with an angle all her own.
Weak Point(s) (at least 3): As mentioned previously, Ruby doesn't always get along with others - in fact, most wolves in her pack avoid her. She can be secretive and closed off, not really ready to let anyone in, and shoves them away with crass comments and sharp fangs. Ruby is about as creative as a stick, and most of her strategies and sayings once came from someone else - in fact, she sometimes takes notes when the alpha goes nuts, and tries to copy his fighting moves. Though one may not ever consider this, Ruby is very sensitive about her appearance. Her self-consciousness is cleverly hidden behind snarky arrogance, but when alone she will sometimes stare into a clear pond's reflection and simply point out everything wrong with her. Her self worth is really quite low.
Fear(s): She would never tell you, but Ruby is deadly afraid of birds. No, really, birds. She was almost carried off by a gull as a pup, and has never gotten over it. She fears letting others down, though this doesn't really apply unless she really cares about them.
Song: Team
History: Amber, as she was once known, was born in the pack of the Eastern Shores to a senior delta and a warrior. She and her twin sister, Opal, grew up together with loving parents, but also the weight of being high-ranking faes in society. While Opal thrived under the pressure, cracks began to develop for Amber; her sister was so refined, and had received several courtship offers even before her first birthday, while Amber with her plainer appearance and more outgoing attitude, felt as if she were a disappointment. Her parents were so proud of Opal, speaking of their 'beautiful jewel' at parties and gatherings. Never did they speak of their little fighter. She loved her sister dearly, but also felt a quiet resentment growing inside of her; nothing came easy to the sandy little fae, nothing but the fighting lessons their mother put them through. It was in these lessons that Amber truly felt happy, enjoying the chance to best her sister. She would gloat, lord it over the more reserved fae, though Opal would just laugh and smile at the jeering. It was this attitude that made it impossible for Amber to truly dislike her beloved sister, despite her relative superiority. She wanted to be a fighter, but knew she could never pursue her passion if she wanted to make her parents proud. So she settled down.
Amber became a quiet, obedient fae, at least on the outside. She no longer sparred with the same vigor during their mandatory lessons, tried harder to create beautiful artwork or music, and kept her tongue in check (mostly). She tried to be like Opal, tried to be a fae her parents could be proud of, and she succeeded in a way. An older brute in the pack had taken a liking to Amber, wishing to court her, and her parents urged her to take the offer. While she felt no love, or even attraction for the male, she accepted. Their courtship was to begin after the full moon gathering that month, seeing as the pack was meant to leave a few days after, and she felt only dread for when they would return.
During the full moon gathering, Amber and Opal were playing a game of hide and seek with a couple of their new friends. It was well into the night, the air was fresh and crisp. Amber knew her sister's nose was weak and that she would never sniff her out, so she ran off to a little outcropping of dense forest. She found a hiding place in the deep brush, what she assumed to be a deer run, even if the scent was a little off. Turned out, it was actually a boar run.
It was only moments later that Amber fled to the wilds of loner territory, a dead bore and blood on her paws the symbol of her disgrace. She could never go back to her pack after that rush, the rush of the fight, adrenaline pumping through her veins and cool night air in her lungs.
She wandered as a loner for a while, honing her skills, fighting everything in her path. She felt so much freer out in the wilds, but soon felt the longing for companionship. It was then that she joined the pack of the Western Forest, under the false name Ruby. Her name was chosen not for the gemstones of her birth pack, but for the colour that stained her paws on that fateful night.
Desired Rank: Head Warrior, maybe even Beta, though she knows she isn't responsible enough for either role. She'd just enjoy the recognition and power ;p Doesn't even think about aiming for the Alpha spot, considering the kind of fight she'd have to go through.. *shivers*
Current Rank: Warrior, of course.
Crush: Not really
Mate: Doesn't consider it
Relatives and Pups: Citrine and Onyx (parents, Eastern Shores), Opal (twin sister, Eastern Shores)
Pic:
RP Example:

[Nellas]

Just let me know if something is amiss, Mirage!
"Deinopius Rocks"

Player name: Nellas
Pack: None
Name: Eliot
Age: About 3 and a half
Gender: Male
Scent: He carries a neutral but pleasant sort of scent, of crisp air and clean sweat and something alike to caraway.
Body Type: A bit on the smaller side though still roughly average for a male, Eliot is remarkably lean from the time spent traveling on his own. He has tough paws and worn claws from his lifestyle that constantly brings him back to the road. His well-muscled shoulders and hindquarters are built mostly for sheer endurance; he is capable of loping at the same steady pace for hours on end. His facial features are clean and sharp, together creating an overall pleasing visage. In certain lightings, the paleness of his fur smooths over the angles of his face and create a softer look. Though when left to his own thoughts, the set of his brows and the firm line of his mouth can suggest a brooding air, but this is not one that he intentionally puts forth.
His fur is likely considered a defining quality of his character. With its nearly pure color and soft appearance, it has all of the potential to be as regal and luxurious as that of the shores wolves. Yet instead of flowing smoothly downwards or carrying an artfully styled tousle, his coat is, simply put, utterly wild. No doubt a shores wolf would be dismayed. Though not notably long, it sweeps up in all different directions at once, sticking up in almost spiky tufts in places, and framing his face in an artfully bold manner. Its windswept kinks and curls are defining enough as to lend a recognizable silhouette to his figure.
Pelt color: His fur is exceedingly pale, so much so that at first glance it could be taken as a soft white, though this is not quite correct; In truth his fur is the lightest of tans or greys possible. In being so ambiguously pale, it has a tendency to take on the warm or cool qualities of the light it is illuminated by. His fur has a soft, faded look despite its curls, but feels coarser than it appears.
Markings: Each of his paws are a bit darker than the rest of the coat, a natural occurrence as well as as result of the dust of his travels. A strip of this same slightly darker hue begins at his wet-clay nose and fades back into the almost-white of the rest of the coat by the time it reaches his arresting pair of eyes.
Eye Color: His eyes as well as his coat are quite pale, a striking spun-glass laurel green possessing of an altogether quite unexpected beauty.
Other Details: He carries a small leather pack strapped at his side, and a couple bands woven from grasses around one sinewy foreleg. During travel he can often be seen wearing a pair of deerskin leather bracers on his forelegs in order to protect against potential damage.
There are various scars set under his fur, though for the most part they are unnoticeable. The most obvious scar is betrayed by a slightly offset ridge of fur on the cheekbone below his right eye, where his coat is shorter and smoother over the angles of his face. There is another pair of scars on the back of one of his ears- two somewhat ragged lines, one more prominent than the other, drawn across and slightly downwards at the widest part of his ear.
History: Eliot was born to loner parents. His father, driven by an addiction to fermented drinks, was often unkind and unreliable to Eliot and his mother, but due to his mother’s sickness they depended on him for survival. Growing up, the life of taking care of his mother and anticipating his father to lose control was much of what he knew. His mother’s sickness progressed, and his father's temper worsened. The day Eliot woke up to witness his mother’s last breaths was his first birthday. That day, he ran away.
Since then, he has been traveling. In the beginning, his constant travel was an expression of escape. He would avoid all signs of other wolves when he strayed near to their territories, but after a while his desire for companionship and connection overpowered that caution. He ended up staying the first winter after with a pack that had been willing to take him in. Though in the spring, he left again, and kept moving, though continued the finding of a pack to winter in the next year as well. In his travels, he has started to heal. His travels have been quite extensive, and he has seen many places outside of the normal traveling scope of the three packs.
Currently, he is starting to look for a pack to join up with for the winter.
Personality: Eliot walks a line between who he used to be, and who he has the potential to become.
He is hesitant at first to place his trust in others, yet he yearns for others to trust him. He is on a cusp of wanting to be completely independent, but wanting to let other wolves into his life. He wants to let others see into his mind, let alone his heart, but it is difficult to let down the barriers he has kept up so long. He wants to seek knowledge and learning, especially that of healing, but it reminds him greatly of his childhood that was bereft of that knowledge and the eventual loss of his mother. He carries a good amount of baggage from his past that, though he is in a much different place in his life from where he used to be, still haunts him.
But his past doesn't make up all of who he is. Eliot is making great efforts to continually move forwards.
He has found a new comfortableness with himself, especially lately, that reveals itself in a certain set of his shoulders and carriage of his head. His mannerisms and expressions are possessing of an initially somewhat reserved but undeniably intense quality, filled with the vibrancy of the life thrumming within him that he has been beginning to let show through. He is remarkably independent, having been forced to rely on himself for years now, and carries with him a desire to explore and experience the things that he missed when he was younger. He is somewhat of a risk taker, less in the sense that he seeks the thrill of danger, and more in the sense that he seeks the thrill of living, and of being free to do as he wants, and to make his own decisions. He is greatly empathetic towards the struggles of other wolves, more so than he might seem at first. And though he can chafe under the orders of other wolves, he has a natural inclination towards politeness and the resolving of conflict that has served him well in the past.
Likes: He has discovered a love of anything and everything that is beautiful or free. Heights and flying and storytelling and art. Wind and changing seasons and vibrant colors evocative of emotion. Standing at the edges of high things imagining flight. Climbing mountains and the peace of solitude. Telling stories.
Dislikes: Winter. Confinement. Injuries. Being reminded of things he'd rather not dwell on. The first few days of spring. Conflict. Raised voices. Feeling anger. Seeing wolves in need and being unable to help. Hunting. He is occasionally rubbed the wrong way by wolves of authority, or those who think they have authority over him.
Main Talent: He is fairly street-smart, has learned how to take care of himself in the wilds, and has rudimentary healing skills. But none of these particularly stand out from each other. If given the chance, though, he has a strong desire to continue learning healing.
Weak Point(s): His childhood. His simultaneous desire for and fear of developing close relationships with other wolves. His fighting skills are also greatly lacking; when it comes to hunting, he can get by, but when it comes to fighting other wolves, he has a tendency to shut down, unfortunately to his own disadvantage. He is careful to avoid such situations as best he can.
Fear(s): Being who his father was. Letting himself become close to other wolves, for fear of hurting them. Loneliness. Not being good enough. That he let his mother down. Physical conflict with other wolves.
Desired Rank: Though his wiry hunter’s build might lead others to assume otherwise, Eliot wants to become a medicine wolf.
Current Rank: Loner
Crush: -
Mate: -
Relatives and Pups: His mother is dead. His father's state is unknown.
Pic: -


Player name: Nellas
Pack: Pack of the Eastern Shores
Name: Finch
Age: 2 and 1/2
Gender: male
Scent: something dark and sweet mixed with the salty tang of the ocean shores and the engulfing comfort of warm feathers, a mix of scents spun together in a heady and enticing wreath that is entirely unique to him.
Body Type: about average height for a male, he is lean under his fur. His deliberate, almost delicate paws are more used to crafting than killing, but are surprisingly strong due to his line of work. His fur is luxurious, thick and plush and slightly longer than usual, it frames his face in a generous ruff and is constantly tousled and out of place, swept by the wind. His face is dark and chiseled, the light catching over his brow and cheekbones and bring out the subtle golden highlights brushed through his fur like freckles, accenting his bright eyes. A couple notches in his ears from this and that, and scars here and there mar an otherwise striking figure.
Pelt color: a distractingly rich, deep brown that captures the dark peace of twilit woods, lightening in places to sandalwood or sepia then darkening again to coffee and chocolate all at once. It can be a little overwhelming, he never seems to be a single color at once, each part of his body spinning back the light in different ways.
Markings: the coffee-and-cream hue of his underside matches the inside of his ears and accents the rogue splash of white on his chest and several of his toes. The inside of his legs is lined with a subtle dark gold, hard to pick out when he is sitting and standing; yet when his legs stretch out while leaping or running they flash brightly in contrast to his dark legs like the vividly patterned wings of a bird. There is a small patch on the inside of one ankle where he had accidentally burned himself and the fur hadn't grown back. Other than that, he is relatively simple, markings not drawing attention away from the overall bearing of his character.
Eye Color: eyes as bright and ambient as the cheerful golden feathers of the bird he was named after, spun through with whorls of honey and amber like the pattern of grains in sunlit wood. Wide and framed by long, dark lashes, he uses them to convey his emotion in a heartbreaking set of subtle nuances and movements.
Other Details: he is surprisingly free of jewelry or other such decorations compared to the pack he belongs to; there are several metal studs that peek through the fur on the edge of one ear, and a pale rope bracelet strung with a silver ring twines around one wrist. Any more than that and they would get in the way of his everyday life, though he does adorn himself in formal settings.
Personality: Finch is a bold, cheerful young male with a taste for adventure. Less serious than he should be, he's not afraid to take chances and will accept most dares, always looking to exercise his mind and body. He is most definitely a flirt and a bit of a social butterfly. Finch is clever and full of little jokes and sarcastic comments, a cheery, often cheeky grin never far from his entrancingly warm eyes. He cares about other wolves far more than he lets on, and tries to cater to their needs as closely as possible when working for them, even if such work is worth more coin than he asked for. When he is affronted or his dignity is offended he can harbor a sharp tongue, but he usually strives to be as friendly and jovial as possible. One thing he dislikes about himself is he has a tendency to say things he regrets when his anger or irritation is aroused. He does not like to lose control of what he says, thinks, or does. A blind spot he has is himself; the confidence and bold face he so often shows may not be entirely true when he admits things to himself in the private of his own mind. Overall he is a cheerful, easily approached young male whose daring and sometimes cheeky exterior conceals a kind heart that cares too much.
Likes: art and music, socializing, flirting, hunting, creating, his sister, his pack. A favorite pastime of his is walking along the beach or in the forest looking for sands to make into glass, and he would someday like to travel to the caves where the gems are instead of just buying them from the jewelers. He also enjoys taking flute lessons from his sister Anna, though admittedly he's not very good at it.
Dislikes: swimming, getting overly wet in general, his work getting ruined, being treated with contempt, getting burned
Main Talent: most of his time is spent at the forge; he works mostly with glass but has taken the occasional lesson in metalwork
Weak Point(s): he hates getting soaked when he doesn't expect to, he may live by the ocean and work amongst its creatures but that doesn't mean his thick fur is suited to its charms. His biggest weakness is his sister, Anna, who he would do nearly anything for.
Fear(s): Anna’s safety, or the lack thereof; being alone; not being respected; losing control of himself
History: Finch and Anna were born and raised in this pack, and have been close since they were pups, though their differing duties as adults keep them away from each other often.
Desired Rank: n/a
Current Rank: smith
Crush: His affection is one thing and he nearly as known as Katrina for his flirtiness; but his true romantic feelings are hard to earn
Mate: none
Relatives and Pups: Anna; sister, alive, active. Mother and father, alive, inactive.
Pic: -

Pack: Pack of the Eastern Shores
Name: Anna
Age: 2 and 1/2
Gender: female
Scent: she often uses a sweet-scented perfume smelling like pine and sweet flower blossoms to mask her more natural scent.
Body Type: a younger fae, she possesses the same enviable lush fur as her brother, but instead of his rugged, windswept mane she keeps hers silken smooth. Anna has a relaxed, loose frame that seems very comfortable, very intimate, as if you could gather her up in your arms like a doll and never need to let go. She has a graceful, serious beauty about her, befitting of one of her pack, but instead of being bold and attention seeking it is a sweet and natural thing. Try though she might to keep a cool, haughty demeanor fitting for one of her rank, she often slips and she’s really never without a little smile or some look of happiness or openness about her. However her body language is respectful and demure at all times, ruff accenting the curve of her delicately held neck and small snow tipped paws brought together when she is standing or sitting. Her tail is a little shorter than usual but the length of her fur is carefully styled to make up for it what she can.
Pelt color: a muted series of greys, creams and browns, marbled with mahogany and shades of reddish-brown, her shoulders and back lit with with the exquisitely sunny gold and auburn hues that mark her and Finch as brother and sister.
Markings: liberal sepia and charcoal streaks accenting her ruff; there is a small, endearing strip of white between her eyes and around it her muzzle darkens until her nose is a deep grey-brown, greatening the contrast. The outside of her ears darkens in that way as well, but the inside is a soft cream, and her whiskers are silver. All four paws are white and give her pink paw pads, which are tough from wandering around the shorelines or forest trails as she is apt to do.
Eye Color: a summery liquid brown spun through with amber that lends her the thoughtfulness and wayward innocence of a doe.
Other Details: she has one noticeable scar cutting across the front of one foreleg.
She has a pair of gemstones studded in each ear, and one front paw shares a pair of glass-beaded bracelets crafted by her brother. While in public she often adorns herself with an assortment of other trinkets but she is never without those listed here.
Personality: quieter than her brother, Anna is less outspoken but no less cheerful and far more curious. Instead of her brother's eye for adventure and challenge, she wants to learn; she seeks out knowledge more than anything, and has spent time taking lessons from the older members of her pack on anything and everything from shell and glass work, even to fighting. She is a little shy around those she does not know but strives to be friendly and kind and all the other positive qualities expected of a dove. At all times she is polite, and demure, and quiet, rarely speaking unless addressed, as is the custom, though often she wishes there was more of a freedom in that area. She loves the united quality of the winter months and appreciates the chance to learn from other cultures and see the differences in the way they work, learn and live. She is not opposed to friends in the other packs but has never taken things very far because during the majority of the year they would be separate again. She likes socializing and spending time to herself in about equal measures, but not enough time either way and she can begin to overthink. Anna has seen and knows a lot that others might not care to think about, but she has a sort of innocence about her that is hard to touch upon. There is a coy aspect to the appeal of her warm coat and curved figure, but the beauty she possesses isn't bold like her brother, instead realized by the way she moves and talks, careful, her gentle demeanor and the way she lends the strength of her emotion to everything she does and cares about. She is entrancing in the way one would be were they to listen to the soft rush of a woodland river, or the deep silence of evening snowfall; a quiet sort of beautiful.
Likes: the ocean, fruits and oatbread, socializing, creating the instruments that have earned her her rank. Painting bird eggs with a set of tiny brushes made from her own fur is a hobby she's enjoyed since she was young, though usually she paints just instruments now.
Dislikes: heights, rudeness, prejudice, feeling threatened and defenseless
Main Talent: leaning more towards the artsy side of possible talents, she loves music and building instruments. Mostly a crafter of flutes, she is known for the painstaking care with which she paints her pieces in intricate details using plant dyes and other ingredients, and she can play the flute as well as she can build it.
Weak Point(s): She is currently unsure of a lot of things in her life and her future, and can often feel out of place even though she knows she can belong here. However she drowns this in an air of confidence and strives to put up a friendly and cheerful air even when she doesn’t feel that way internally, in a way that you wouldn't realize how hurt she really is until she's completely ruined. She doesn't have good balance, due to a short tail; her tail is noticeably shorter than others but Anna for the most part tries not to care.
Fear(s): knowing she doesn't have a lot of physical ability, Anna fears the larger animals of the forest territory, and, irrationally, sharks, and she is intimidated by the fierce seeming brutes of the Western Forest. She fears heights and danger. She has a leftover skittishness when in too close a proximity of gulls. She fears that something will happen to her or her brother and they'll be taken from each other. She fears that she will never find love, and she fears defenselessness.
History: much the same as Finch's, with some minor differences
Desired Rank: she desires to be considered a master crafter one day but recognizes that rank, if in the future at all, is far away. She still has a lot to learn and is interested in taking lessons in crafting string instruments, which is a goal of hers.
Current Rank: instrumentalist
Crush: These kinds of emotions are not hard to spark in her; however it is too easy for Anna to talk herself out of it, believing herself to not truly be capable of winning another's heart as they are able to win hers
Mate: none
Relatives and Pups: Finch; brother, alive, active. Mother and father; alive, inactive.
Pic: -

Pack: Eastern Shores
Name: Russet, though he's known as Blackbird.
Age: 3
Gender: male
Scent: Something that is between piquant and fragrant, a tangy but almost sweetly enticing scent like pomegranate or pine
Body Type: Stunningly handsome, as can be expected from one of his pack; long, lean, and tousled, with a finely sculpted torso and hindquarters, one's impression of him out of the corner of their eye may be interest. In truth when faced with the fullness of his bearing, all quiet dignity and implacable melancholy, it is easy to find him lingering in one's thoughts days after. His fur is soft when run through one's paws, thought it does not look it, the colors in his fur resembling the pack's natural-hued ancestors more than the bright colors and unusual patterns that are more common in the shores today. His strength is apparent in the controlled stance he carries and the deliberate way in which he moves, but his true bearing lies in the curve of his chest and arch of his dark neck, the set of his eyes with such a capability to be expressive. Though there is something sensual or more feminine in the fluidity of his bearing that, though usually fitted into the movements of a dove, it does not seem out of place on this unusual dark-eyed wolf. His is a magnetic presence to be next to, the entirety of his dark body humming with an intangible energy. His ears are tall, long enough to fold over when he is relaxed, framing his lean face along with the windswept set of his dark fur.
Pelt color: A deep, warm grey like the underbellies of storm clouds, darker flecks speckled over his shoulders like a smattering of raindrops, a flower petal off-white undercoat peeking through here and there with his movement
Markings: His spine is marked by a melted trail of coal that moves up into his ruff and the backs of his velveteen ears which are otherwise marked only by a droplet of white. His legs and muzzle each darken subtly into the same deep hue from which his eyes shine out, like pieces of sea glass left discarded in the ash of a fire. The same creamy white on the back of his ears trail also along his shoulders, his back, his stomach, gathering into the crevices there; not a solid color but instead a salt-and-pepper mix that is as unusual as it is appealing.
Eye Color: a smoldering olive green touched with winedark mahogany and grey. Rimmed with a set of soft dark lashes and graced with flecks of bright gold, they are undoubtedly this quiet bird's best feature. One might get lost in their haunted depths; his eyes are a magnetic presence of unknowable thought behind their immediately aesthetic appeal.
Other Details: Several studs set into his long ears, several scars set into his long fur, mostly hidden as they are but a remembrance of the fights he got into when he was young and didn't know any better.
Personality: One might find that as much as time as they spend with this quiet baron they might never grow to know him at all. Having been raised in a family of extreme rank-lovers who cared more about their status and reputation than their only son, Blackbird grew up rather directionless and without the support a young wolf needs, forced to adapt seamlessly to every situation without ever really learning who he was or how to express himself. He is intelligent; that much shows. But he grew up being taught to be who others expected him to be, not what was true to himself. He adjusts accordingly to each new environment without even a hitch now, choosing from a collection of different faces and facades without ever knowing which he wants to keep. Blackbird fancies himself alone, and is lonely. He excels at keeping from others that which he wishes to hide.
Due to his rank Blackbird is present at many social gatherings, and he is often a point of interest for some or many- for the ease and comfortable familiarity with which he interacts with others, giving a sense of security when one might feel alone in a crowd. However, as much time as you spend with him and his sweetened husky words and intense spun-glass gaze, you may find that once withdrawn from his presence you may have learned nothing about him or his interests at all; he prefers to keep the topic of discussion on the other partner of the conversation.
Directionless and in no need of money due to his rank, two of his greatest interests are poetry and singing. He sings or recites poems sometimes at the parties he and his family are invited to and has grown to become rather well known for it.
The nickname Blackbird has grown to be what he identifies himself by and at this point most have forgotten he was ever called by any other name.
Likes: Singing, music, wine, the smell of rain, beauty, doves, details, recognition of the intricacy of other wolves' lives around him; he finds a certain kind of peace in the knowledge that each wolf has a story just as complex as his, even if he doesn't know every detail. He also favors solitude, in which he can let his guard down.
Dislikes: The closed walls of his life, expectations of others grinding against his own wishes, those who are rude to him or unappreciative of a kind or thoughtful gesture.
Main Talent: Undoubtedly his singing abilities, something discovered as he grew up seeking an escape; the rich, melting tones of his husky voice coupled with a smoldering pair of eyes set beneath dark brows are enough to swoon over, though he uses his looks and voice not always for that purpose. And indeed his regular voice is like that too, low and husky and sinuous, soft-spoken yet wrapping around the ears of all that come near him. At parties he often acts as a minstrel of sorts, which eventually earned him the nickname 'Blackbird' for the undeniable beauty of his voice.
Weak Point(s): He faces each social gathering with a growing dread, fearing the inevitable match his parents would make for him to further their reputation in society. Mentions of his implied future elicit simply a rumble of his voice and an elaborately dismissive shrug. A lighter weakness might be the fact that he is drawn to what he considers beautiful like a moth to flame; more than capable of distracting his attention, something beautiful, something worthy of poetry or song, has the potential to expose him in the right circumstances.
Fear(s): Recognition.
History: Named Russet for hazel eyes that reminded his parents of the richly hued apple; however, his eyes have changed as he grew into adulthood and perhaps his original name no longer fits as well as his given one.
Most of his history integrated into the personality section.
Desired Rank: n/a
Current Rank: Delta due to his heritage; a long line of wolves that at one point had close relations with the alpha's family
Crush: With his love of beauty it is not hard for someone to attract his attention; however, never in his life has he offered anyone even the first small gift of the courtship process.
Mate: none
Relatives and Pups: His parents, Bracken and Almira, inactive, no siblings
Pic: hopefully coming soon; I think some of his physical features will be easier to show in a picture instead of just a description

Name: Katrina
Age: Nearing her third year
Gender: Female
Scent: A mixture of warm spices, cinnamon and pepper and something fiery all tangled up in an intoxicating mix that is at once delightful and intriguing
Body Type: A petite fae, one’s first impression of Katrina would be, simply put, her utter grace; she moves with a dancing fluidity that isn’t often mastered. There is sunlight in her blue eyes and a certain soft accent in the liquid tones of her sweet mezzo-soprano voice. Her fur has a tendency to wave that becomes more pronounced when wet in the places where her fur is longer, such as her neck, chest, and tail. She is shorter than most, and has a slender figure, but makes up for it with the ease with which she moves and her expressive body language. Long legs reach nicely up to her torso and naturally arched neck, wideset ears framing an open, expressive face that so blatantly goes against the societal norms of her pack. She is also very comfortable in her own skin and around others; physically very affectionate, nudging their shoulders or looping her tail across their back as naturally as breathing. She is surprisingly fit though it doesn't show under the softness of her coat, leading her strength to often be underestimated. Her smaller stature and narrowness may have something to do with a possible strain of coyote blood reaching back in her father's bloodline; either way there is something about her that seems slightly different than other wolves. Overall she presents a striking image of a fae, if rather unusual; because if there’s anything that could be said about her, is that she stands out in a crowd. One couldn't help but be drawn to the vibrant energy humming throughout her body, the aware agility of her movements, the way her emotions are painted across her face and linger there despite the pack’s expectations, like softwinged moths drawn to the light.
Pelt color: Best described as a muted auburn, Katrina’s pelt is an intricate mix of different shades of wheat and chestnut and mahogany combined in an eye-catching pattern of complementing hues.
Markings: Russet tones brush their way alongside flax and cocoa through her generous ruff, a paler honeyed cream tone blanketing her throat and underside with her toes dipped in the same color and extending up the backs of her legs that blend into a darker tone down the front. Muted wheat shades paint across her sides and trail along the inside of her legs and under her tail with a reddish version brushed across her back and her hindquarters. The same mild cocoa hue forming four little arrowheads on her legs and in faint rings around a cream-tipped tail. Her ears are rimmed in chocolate, and russet trails along her neat little nose, dark eye hollows complement the lighter streak bringing out her fair eyes, though the most endearing part of her face is the smattering of darker flecks across her fine cheekbones and nose like little raindrops.
Eye Color: A clear cornflower blue that darkens around the outer edge and lightens in the middle. Her eye color is startlingly pure, no green or grey tainting the pleasant cerulean depths of her eyes. Framed with a set of pale eyelashes that are unnoticeable at first glance unless one was very close to her, her lashes lighten into a flaxen hue at the tips, as if dipped in honey.
Other Details: She always has some little piece of jewelry about her. Her ears are pierced with several hoops adorning each. Instead of the eye-catching jewelled contraptions and whatnot the everyday Katrina prefers a simple woven-grass bracelet around one paw and a blue silk ribbon around her neck strung with minute glass beads. During social events, she goes as full-out as any other unattached female her age.
Personality: Katrina is, undoubtedly, an enigma; a confident, magnetic individual who stays relaxed and cheerful in most situations, though she is not completely carefree- she is surprisingly aware of her surroundings and others' moods. Though of no lesser rank herself, Katrina is a bit of a wild card when it comes to etiquette, as she tends to throw most of it aside, constantly, to have fun and to get to know other wolves. She is light-hearted and charismatic, and the energy and openness she exudes can be infectious. A smile or some sort of (somewhat mischievous) grin gracing her finely built features more often than not, she has an innate sense of subtle thoughtfulness that can turn around or mold the mood of most situations. A dove who enjoys building relationships with as many wolves as she can, she is known for her friendliness, laughter, and welcoming attitude, (as well as her flirtiness) generally liking other wolves on first sight unless they give her a reason not to. This however can be to her disadvantage, because other wolves are capable of worse than she usually gives them credit for.
Likes: All things free; the sky, the ocean, birds, other animals, music, and, over all, dancing. Socializing, crafting, the gathering of the three packs- especially during the winter months.
Dislikes: Being disrespected, underestimated, being stopped or prevented from doing something she had intended to do. Being slighted.
Main Talent: Her greatest talent is creating the exquisite silks and fabrics she has become known for, as she has had the chance to hone that skill to near perfection
Weak Point(s): She assumes the best of others often to her own fault. She often keeps her negative emotions inside in the effort to keep them at bay, and when she can't stand it anymore it all comes out in a rush. She goes through a lot of internal shame and guilt, because during the times when she feels the worst she can be snappy, push others away, say things she regrets. This is the cycle she lives on, infrequently disrupted by the bad periods but when they do happen, they devastate her for days or weeks at a time. Each time Katrina goes through this it gets harder and harder to overcome it; yet she drowns herself in denial, refusing to acknowledge the darker side of this usually sunny, magnetic dove, only wanting to always be the best, happiest wolf she can.
Fear(s): Being lonely, being shunned. Getting her hopes up only to be disappointed. Not being able to be the wolf she wants to be.
History: Her mother was raised in this pack, her father a loner who joined and climbed ranks. Her entrancing beauty and bearing was passed on by her mother, her coat color a remembrance of her father who died of a sickness one winter. Even when she was young, Katrina has always been her own self. From the start she has found joy in her chosen craft, becoming known for the intricate beauty of the cloths she created.
Desired Rank: n/a; she occasionally considers putting her back into rising up a rank to master crafter, but realizes that it would burden her with an extra responsibility and unbalance the life that she is already for the most part happy with
Current Rank: Couturier, though she sometimes serves as a tutor when there are pups in the pack
Crush: maybe, maybe not, it can be hard to tell with Katrina, who is as drawn to others as they are to her
Mate: none
Relatives and Pups: Mother; inactive, father; deceased, no siblings.
Pic: here

Pack: Pack of the Western Forest
Name: Clarence
Age: 4
Gender: male
Scent: a faintly bittersweet but heady scent of rain and earth and trees and an intoxicating, feral kind of musk
Body Type: Clarence is in control and sure of himself, and it shows in his stance. He is strong, a towering, muscled frame accented by the cropped style of his fur. With broad shoulders and powerful hindquarters, there is a dangerous sort of appeal shifting in the blues of his eyes. Large paws used to the lifestyle of his pack are surprisingly dexterous, and the luxurious triangle shaped ears set at the top of his head perk nobly forwards. His facial features are sharp, chiseled, attractive in the way one might describe him as ruggedly handsome. There is a respect-commanding dignity residing in his eyes but instead of being aloof, he is as approachable and treats other members of his pack with warmth and the respect they deserve.
Pelt color: a series of deep charcoal almost-blues, that look black in some lightings
Markings: in rare instances the sun hits his coat the right way to reveal faint iridescent curls of muted blues and greens. A faint lightening of his fur into a silvery tone over his shoulders and along the backs of his hind legs is the only other change in the darkness of his fur
Eye Color: a vivid, piercing blue that that upon looking closer reveals a multitude of shimmering hues of sapphire and cerulean, shining with a bright, impassioned intensity.
Other Details: he wears several scars but doesn't care for jewelry other than the string of teeth and claws won from past kills around his neck, an impressive display suitable for one of his rank
Personality: Honor, integrity and dignity; three values he stands by. Clarence is an intelligent wolf who would rather settle disputes with words rather than blows. As a beta, he pushes others to make the right choice, and is an advisor to his alpha and those who would seek his wisdom. He makes choices based on what he feels is right and strives to greaten the honor of his pack. Instead of scaring away the members with his status and strength, he makes an effort to get to know and be in touch with each member beyond his duties of protecting and helping the alpha lead. He can be welcoming and intimidating in turns, whatever the situation requires. Clarence is a good beta, and connects with his pack. Instead of bullying them into submission, he inspires trust and confidence. He puts on a relatable front to his pack, and is willing to die for the right cause. He is true to his honor and does not say things he does not mean. Admittedly, Clarence isn't great at small talk but beyond his rather gruff exterior, he can be surprisingly gentle at times, when he lets down his guard. However he has never really learned to express love; he is not comfortable with sharing such emotion because in his old pack such feelings were considered weak and looked down upon. As a beta he needs to know what the alpha requires of him for the day, but if it ever contradicts with his values he will not hesitate to speak up, and he is not afraid to take responsibilities upon himself. This earns him respect as a leader and an individual, and he would never do something to harm his pack. He strives to do the best he can with what he has, but he is not afraid to ask for more; he expects of his pack members honesty, courage and their best effort. He is extremely protective and respectful of Gemini, and would do anything for his alpha in a heartbeat, for whom he cares deeply about. Clarence is usually willing to help younger members of the pack as well, he can be surprisingly patient and understanding with them. He is generally very calm, and it can take a lot to perturb him; however when his anger is ignited one would not want to be at the brunt of it. He does not like to lose control, but it does happen. His emotions are deeper than he likes to let on, he rarely talks about them, instead preferring subtlety and the rumble of carefully chosen words to convey his more personal thoughts. He prefers to bottle emotion inside where it can slowly run its course instead of exposing the raw fire of it to others and possibly saying or revealing something he would regret; as a beta, he doesn’t want his emotions to be detrimental to his leadership and pack as a whole. He does everything that he can for his pack, but often he puts an unbearable amount of stress and pressure on himself, and really he needs to try and wind down and find the medium between personal pleasure and given duty.
Likes: autumn, winter, weather, intelligence, loyalty, bravery, kindness, the adrenaline of fighting,
Dislikes: cruelty, betrayal, injustice, prejudice, hatred, long-distance running, the heat of summer days, small talk
Main Talent: leading is his greatest skill, but he would not have earned his rank without prowess as a fighter as well
Weak Point(s): Quinn, Gemini, and the pack- when those under his care, responsibility, and protection are threatened, he would not hesitate to lay his life on the line- he can be intimidating and perhaps harsh at times, but that does not mean he does not care. Because he does, and more than he lets on. He often has a habit of zoning in on one specific thing, letting the rest of his environment fade from his attention, as a result important details can escape his attention
Fear(s): that he will dishonor himself, that he will lose control, that his past will follow him to these packs, that he will never discover what he senses is missing
History: I'd prefer to play this out
Desired Rank: n/a
Current Rank: beta
Crush: he hasn't truly given thought to this
Mate: he hasn't yet considered a mate
Relatives and Pups: he had family in his old pack, but hasn't been in touch with them for a long time. Quinn is a good friend, and he feels almost fatherly towards her, though it’s not likely he would admit it.
Pic: -

Pack: Pack of the Northern Mountains
Name: Sparrow
Age: 3
Gender: female
Scent: Her fur is mostly clean of any scent at all, but once in a while one might catch a hint of herbs, maybe thyme or oregano, and something warm and gentle that evokes a feeling of home
Body Type: She's just about average height, if hardly brushing the edge of a male's chin. But there’s something about the way she leans forwards even when not in motion that suggests a birdlike grace, not the sharp, to-the-point movements, but as if she might unfurl wings and leap into the sky as any moment, as if she might be more comfortable there. Her body is lean, mostly straight and without curves; instead it's meant for physical fitness and she's a very good runner, meant as much for endurance and sure-footedness as speed, and finding a good balance between. At first glance, she seems plain, but watching her in her everyday movements reveals the softness and steady thoughtfulness that permeates her slight, deerlike being. Her steps are sure and nimble and she is light on her paws with a very fluid gate that melds one movement into another almost seamlessly. When she’s not running, she is generally very reserved and deliberate, not given to unnecessities like fiddling or twisting her paws. She walks with a completely silent step as all trackers do and her somewhat long ears come in handy as she is constantly taking in every detail of her environment. Her eyes are rather deep and pensive, but her fleeting smiles come easily and sincerely, though her laughter is much rarer.
Pelt color: a soft, dusky brown with a silvery blue-grey undercoat.
Markings: There is a small snowy marking in the whorl of fur on her chest, suggesting a bird in flight; her namesake. The same shade of startling white appears again on the underside of her feet, leading to pink paw pads instead of darker ones, and over her delicately shaped cheekbones there is a brush of silvery tones melded into the velvet soft fur of her face.
Eye Color: A deep, expressive grey laid over with a muted purple tone and lightened with spare silver flecks.
Other Details: During the winter she indulges in a cloak of rabbit furs in the solitude of her own den, but she wears no jewelry; afraid it would tangle in the brush or catch the attention of prey.
Personality: Sparrow has always been the quiet kind of wolf, preferring to listen, and learn, rather than speak. Shyer than most, she often has the tendency to assume her opinion isn’t wanted; though this isn’t usually true. She tells herself her life is in her duty; she has been a tracker and huntress all her life, and has the endless grace that comes with knowing her body well, her every strength and weakness. Yet when she is not in her preferred role, her bearing betrays her, with the downcast eyes, slight shoulders, serious features; she has no self-esteem. Though, she is not without dignity. She's more intelligent than one at first might give her credit for, thinking her to be relatively simple as they often give up on her before seeing the full depth of her character, but her eyes are meant for picking up the smallest details and she is aware of everything in her environment. Though the dove is torn between hunting and tracking, Sparrow is a better tracker than hunter by far. She likes being able to provide for her pack and to develop a set of practical skills. What energy she reserves through being introverted and shy is expended in her inexpressible need to take in everything. The train of her thinking is both logical and dreamy. Sparrow is very sensitive; things get to her easily and she has a tendency to wear herself down when things go wrong. She cares about others more deeply than they know, enough that she would do anything, sacrifice anything if asked, especially that of her pack mates, but she cannot extend the same quiet selflessness and careful consideration to her own self. Sparrow’s low self-esteem isn’t always obvious, but she doesn’t give herself credit or recognize herself as anything but plain and futureless, and is far, far harder on herself than any wolf has a right to be.
Likes: snow, spring, the craft and music of the Eastern Shores pack. The wind in her fur and the earth under her paws, the sweet burn of tired muscles and falling leaves. The peace of the early morning and the teamwork of hunting groups, those who respect their prey. The scent of mint and basil, the peace of the deepest of sleep, the voice of rain, autumn, swimming, running, and birds, especially the sparrows for which she was named; like her, they may look plain or simple, but they're far more than they seem.
Dislikes: harsh weather with the exception of snow, large predators, crowds, secrecy, thoughtlessness.
Main Talent: tracking
Weak Point(s): she can be shy when faced with confrontation, is harsh on herself, and often fails to stand up for herself. She has an amount of anxiety that can prevent her from doing things she wants to. She blames herself for her sister who didn’t survive puphood, and her mother who wasted away in grief. She wants to prove herself a skilled enough hunter to catch a bird, but on the rare occasions she has managed to capture one she has not been able to bring herself to kill it, and she doesn’t know why- Sparrow is usually happy to provide for her pack in every way she can.
Fear(s): lightning, mountain lions, being drowned or caught in a mudslide or avalanche
History: she has lived her whole life in this pack but doesn’t cease to be grateful of it; besides information about her family (below) smaller details of her history I will spare for the role-play
Desired Rank: n/a; she is happy where she is
Current Rank: a hunter and tracker in turns, she is torn between the two roles but is generally considered a tracker
Crush: she generally doesn't crush often, as a rule- her walls are too steep for most to pass over
Mate: none
Relatives and Pups: her mother had given birth to two pups, yet only Sparrow survived through puphood and her mother was devastated enough that she lost the will for her own life not soon after.
Pic: -

Pack: Pack of the Western Forest
Name: Quinn
Age: 2
Gender: Female
Scent: a smoky, faintly dangerous scent, like charred wood mixed with the sweeter tones of honey; overall a strange mix, though not unpleasant
Body Type: She's not overly tall, but has a strong figure and expressive movements. She is not without curves but is powerful for a dove her size and has an air of breezy confidence that is not seen in many. She has slender legs that are almost unporportionally long, connecting to delicate-seeming fore paws that lead her to be frequently underestimated; but beneath her generous coat is a dangerous array of wiry muscle. Her core is strong and her claws are sharp and quick, a catlike tail balancing her often risky movements.
Pelt color: A gorgeous copper coat that winks playfully in the light in a multitude of metallic hues, paired with a darker bronze-gold undercoat.
Markings: The fur above her eyes is a little darker than the rest of her coat, matching the foxlike dark of her muzzle, and there's a rusty reddish tone over the back of her neck that melts into her shoulders and back
Eye Color: A bright, laughing green gaze like the spill of sunlight over summer foliage
Other Details: A small string of claws won from kills around one slender forepaw.
Personality: Quinn is a fiery, laughing young female, with a vivacious personality one can't help but be drawn to. Always the optimist she tends to leap before looking and often bites off more than she can chew. She is young, but ambitious, wanting to rise to head warrior in her pack, though she doesn't yet have the patience or the self control. Truly, she lives in the moment, always seeking new adventure, anything for the thrill of enjoyment or the hunt, anything to exercise a smart mind that's always on the move. Her respect is gained through confidence, honesty and kindness; she cannot abide sly tricks or underpawed cruelty. She can be reckless but laughs everything off; melodic notes spilling into the dry air like a fountain filled suddenly with water. She sometimes talks without thinking, and can be blunt; however this makes her incredibly honest- a deep kind of integrity is known to her. She really looks up to Clarence, wanting to be as strong and good as him. In some ways he stands in as a parent figure she never had; he sees something in her that not many do, and wants to help craft her intelligence, bravery and wit into a warrior the pack will remember for years. Quinn is very clever and uses her wit to her advantage (and sometimes her downfall). She has a smart tongue and enjoys a good debate. Quinn is young, and bold, and unforgettable. She has a lot of potential but should learn to temper slightly her fire and gain wisdom to match her intelligence. Quinn is friendly and not easily hurt by others' words- however, she oft assumes that others are as resilient in this manner as she is, which has the potential to cause hurt feelings.
Likes: warmth, riddles, sunlight, flirting, friendliness, the winter gathering of the packs, eating
Dislikes: not much other than rain, being cold, and losing.
Main Talent: hunting or fighting, though as with anything, it's a work in progress. Her technique employs agility and speed and chance rather than brute strength.
Weak Point(s): She can be blunt, impatient, reckless. She hates to be called a coward, and has put herself in the way of danger many times just to prove to herself or to others that she can do whatever she sets her mind to.
Fear(s): being forgotten, being unable to hunt, being ignored
History: Quinn is proud of her pack heritage, however she has lived all her life in this pack mostly without close parental figures because her parents died when she was still young.
Desired Rank: head warrior
Current Rank: warrior
Crush: none
Mate: none
Relatives and Pups: parents; deceased. Clarence is a role model to her.
Pic: -

[-goldleaf-]

Oh my gosh. It's actually happening. I am SO excited!

'Deinopius Rocks'

“I knew he didn’t love me, but I adored him anyway.”
Player name: -Goldleaf- (Goldie, should you like it better)
Pack: Loner
Name: Roan
Age: 3 1/2
Gender: Baron
Scent: He carries a natural smell of freshly turned earth and trees with him
Body Type: Born with the lean and wiry physique for stealth and moderate strength, his life of time spent as a loner has cleaned his bones of any ounce of fat; thinning him to absolute healthiness. There was a bit of Northern wolf blood put in somewhere in his family tree, resulting in his longer legs and superior height to mostly everybody he meets. His face is made of beatifically sharp angles, with a fine jawline and a straight nose with sculpted pointed ears, earning him the nickname 'Foxy' from his close friends. Roans legs are long, ending with paws perhaps a tad big in comparison to the rest of his nicely-proportioned self. His abdomen curves nicely upward at the stomach, giving him the clean-cut appearance of someone who is regularly active and young along with an arched neck and bowed tail to finish off the look of a more noble variety.
Pelt color: Most are reminded of autumn when they catch sight of his unruly pelt. His fur has an almost metallic quality with its golden ends and honeyed highlights against the dark mahogany richness of his under fur and roots. His fur is of varying lengths over all, liking to spike up in soft swirls on his proud chest and stand up in handsome disarray on his forehead. His paws are all the darker hue of his under fur, peppered with some golden flecks, as is the shorter velveteen fur of his face. The hollows of his eyes are each a little darker than the rest of his face, a line of softer gold dust streaked along the crest of each cheekbone, drawing attention to the variety of color changes to his fur. A flat black colors his nose, nails, and the inner curve of his pointed ears. BAM--this is essentially what his fur is like
Markings: The hollows of his eyes are each a little darker than the rest of his face, a line of softer gold dust streaked along the crest of each cheekbone, drawing attention to the variety of color changes within his fur.
Eye Color: Pleasantly light green with interchanging bits of darker green and soft-yellow flecks, like the variety of greens and shades you would see if you tilted your head back and looked up into a leaf-laden tree in the springtime. At their center is a ring of dark and smoldering amber, his eyes are what most would call almond-shaped, yet so mellow a description cannot completely fit with their slant in shape and devilishly playful and restless mood. Ringed in dark, spikey honey-tipped lashes, his eyes are arguably the most attractive thing about him. When caught in their smiling light it can be hard to look away, for they positively invite you to let yourself be tugged closer.
Other Details: He has a triangular notch taken out of the outer rim of his left ear, and a faint hook shaped scar under his chin
Personality: Quick to return a smile and just as quick to lend a helping paw, Roan is an easy one to find yourself depending on for his never-fading smiling eyes and sweet hums. When you are first acquainted to him the only thing you can really know for sure is that he is entirely enrapturing with how easygoing and easy to talk to he is. Roan is not one to start fights, though he is well-known for being able to end one. He has never felt the queasy feeling of indecision or nervousness, always being completely sure of his actions and ready to pay any consequences that may become of them. His charming ways extend into every aspect of his living, but is perhaps tarnished by how restless he is underneath everything; eager for adventure and always ready for something new to try. Roan is calm and steady compared to most males, and the way that most become aware of his presence is when they suddenly have a completely still spot in their vision. In crowds when you look for someone it’s usually the color of their fur or a distinctive voice characteristic that you are searching for, but for Roan it is his stillness. He could be among hundreds in a crowd and you would instantly be able to find him just because of how still and solid seeming he is. One of the most consistent things about him is how inconsistent he is; one to go out of his way to bring little unexpected trinkets for friends he may not have even seen recently, or to suddenly pick up and leave all of his belongings and take a walkabout of the distant territories. His attitudes towards other males are generally good-natured and gentlemanly, but he knows who he likes and who he doesn’t and will not make a secret of it. The same cannot always be said for his actions around females. He is a bit of an unintentional flirt, able to make anyone feel like they’re in on some secret with him just by throwing a wink here or a prolonged glance there. The problem here is how hard it is for his romantic feelings to really be caught up by a fea, he is relatively always open for a game of flirting and the play that follows suit; but as soon as he realizes that the games of tender nature are taking more of a root in the dove’s heart, he cannot help but break away.
Likes: Adventures no matter how small, new experiences and adrenaline. He’s also rather fond of dove’s eyelashes, and has been known to trip over himself on more than one occasion after having his attention snagged by their lovely fluttering.
Dislikes: Staying in the same location for an extended amount of time. He’s also not a fan of males hanging around his sister. He doesn’t like to be tended to for medical reasons either, and can actually resort to physically resisting first aid.
Main Talent: I would be lying if I said anything other than fighting, but seeing as it’s rare to urge him into it, most would instead see his undeniable talent at socializing.
Weak Point(s): His crave for adrenaline will be his downfall, as well as his restless nature, and Lilu. Plus I think we all know he’s bound to fall in love at some point, and I don’t think it will be exactly good for his health.
Fear(s): He sees no point in being scared and pays no time worrying about anything.
Song: (optional)
History: Roan is as simple as can be when it comes to his past life. He was born to a pair of rangy loners, in a litter for five where he was neither the largest nor the smallest. Growing up was rough in a life or death way, for their small family number meant that every hunt and kill that they made had to happen perfectly in order to preserve their fairy tale life of loner freedom. One by one his family members have peeled away from their parents, siblings now roaming far and wide in a little net of a wide-cast family. Roan was the first to leave, and his heart still thrums with excitement and adventure just as it did on his first hunt and first day truly playing a loner. However, since leaving when he was barely old enough to fend for himself he has since returned to his parents and found his youngest sister eager to be out in the world just like the rest of their siblings. With her being a little more than a yearling and him just into his second year the pair made an unlikely duo in the wild world. After a year of traveling together the pair has severed ties, more from her desire to part with him than the other way around. He lingers still, never far enough away that he wouldn’t hear her howl for him if need be.
Desired Rank: N/A
Current Rank: Loner
Crush: None currently, his true affections of the romantic nature are rather hard to earn
Mate: N/A
Relatives and Pups: The status of his parents is unknown, but their names were Reno and Star. He has three brothers; Tristan, Dustan, and Gage. Two sisters; Isilee and Lilu. Only Lilu will be in this RP. He has no pups to his name, at least to his knowledge.
Pic: clickety click
RP Example: well…


“I can’t let you go now. I want to go places with you; obscure little places, just to be able to say: here, I came here with her.”
Pack: The Pack of the Western Forest
Name: Lilu (lee-loo)
Age: 2 1/2
Gender: fea
Scent: She has a rather telling scent of herbs and clinging sweetness from sap from her time spent among plants, but if you could get her away from that her scent would be akin to Roans in the faint musky crispness of tree bark and fresh soil, with a twist of cinnamon from the sticks of which she likes to chew on and off again
Body Type: Like any other fea worth taking note of, Lilu can be almost heartbreaking to look at. She’s slender as could be, and just as delicate (looking, that is). In every way that Roan is masculine, Lilu is his opposite. With all his chiseled muscle and defined features, his sister is his rival in beautiful structure. Long forelegs lead upward to the gentle curve of her chest and the bow of her slightly arched neck. Fine shoulder blades crest the fine line of her back, which slopes down just as her stomach slopes upward, earning her a tiny waist that is eventually interrupted by her long hind legs and sumptuous tail. She stands to her full height at all times, though it looks natural and relaxed rather than strained for attention or presence. Lilu may be dainty next to pretty much every male in the fearsome pack, but next to the other doves her height holds her as a formidable rival to any of them. Her features hold a touch of the same foxish angles as Roans, though her face is softened by both her femininity and her rounded ears. Yes, rounded. Rather than ears of a triangular nature that befits the better majority of her shared canis breed, Lilu has ears more likely to be described as disks. They lend an interesting compliment to her fine features, giving her the look of someone honest and open to talk to when she looks directly at you and their full effect is homed-in on one place. Aside from her rounded ears, the only other noteworthy things about her physicality are her foxily thick tail and surprisingly steely muscles on her delicately lean figure. Growing up in a loner family has had as much of an effect on her body as Roan’s. While she is still easy on the eyes, one cannot help but notice that she stands with a posture that breathes of an unbending sureness in herself that may sway males from quickly pursuing her.
Pelt color: While Roan is Autumn, Lilu is the picture of a golden winter day. Unlike her brothers bronzy gold highlights atop mahogany, she is spun in sweetened white gold atop honey. With a chest of cream and pearly sugar, with paws that follow suit, her light underside melts upward into darker honey roots with the lightest of gold streaks and highlights to contrast on top. Her overall appearance is one of sleek softness, with her fur being rather uneven and spiked out in various places while still looking like it hugs close to her slim figure. She and her brother share their metallic fur trait, but it is unsure who wears it better.
Markings: Her face is gilded on all the finer edges and points, earning her a streak of bright shine across each cheekbone and the brow-bone above each slightly darker eye-hollow. Her eyes themselves are outlined in darker honey and cinnamon, somewhat like eyeliner, with a single dark ‘beauty mark’ just under her eye on her right cheekbone. Her rounded ears are tipped with honey on their outer rims, as well as the tip of her foxy tail.
Eye Color: Lilo’s eyes are a bright and lively green. One would never label them as emerald or mossy, being too full of gentle light gold and glittery turquoise flecks against their over-all light apple green. The center ring is a light amber, like water when it catches the bright morning sun. Most find their breath stolen away when their gaze becomes interlocked with their crisp lightness, and are apt to be drawn closer out of sheer curiosity as to where the inner-light comes from.
Other Details: A thin strip of dark leather is tied around the base of her left ear, with the ends of the ties trailing just behind her jawline from the knot under her ear. Other than that she has no other regularly seen adornments.
Personality: Given a name that means ‘Generous One’ from her mother, Lilu has very much grown into the weighted title. In her youth she would get very sick from hunger, not because food was not given to her, but because she would give it to her siblings rather than keep any for herself. She was eventually broken of this destructive tendency, but never stopped giving to her siblings. Lilu has an extreme disposition of wanting to please others, but even she has her limits. Beneath her sweet and shy shell she has an iron will. When traveling with her brother she urged him into teaching her how to fight, having one night endured a dream where she couldn’t protect herself against a mysterious foe. The dream spurred her into learning quickly and effectively, as she soon almost outshined her brawl-savvy brother. This fighting side of her is certain to never be seen, but it is hinted at by the sureness in her movements and way that she holds herself that is unbefitting yet refreshing on one so young. She takes comfort in the lean amount of muscle on her slender frame, self-satisfied by the thought that those around her probably underestimate what strength she holds. It should be noted, however, that Lilu should never be underestimated. With her determination and sharpness of mind she could surely move mountains if she had a good enough reason to pour her energy into it. Lilu takes a fierce kind of pride in her independence as a young fea, and does not reach out to others for help easily; something she makes no judgment on about others though, for how good of a healer would she be if she was always smug about having patients. Her tender heartedness has never quite left her, which is obviously why she had taken so well to becoming a healer. She and her brother hold the same reckless appreciation for the beauty in things around them, but not the same reckless appreciation for adrenaline. While Roan may love not knowing what’s to come, Lilu feels the need to be in control of herself and whatever situation she’s in. Growing up with him as her brother has made her savvy to the ways in which males flirt, having often observed him in his younger days as a heartbreaker. Given these experiences, she has taken a quiet vow to never be tempted into giving her heart away. The more coy side of her nature only comes out to play when she’s not completely careful of herself, and she can come back to realize this in the snap of a second. Actually, when one of the pack males she was treating for a bloody nose asked to trade one of his raccoon pelts for a kiss, she agreed just for the pelt; but when he came back again later for a second kiss she sent him out with a freshly split lip. Rather than spending her times with males, she has recently begun a hunt for mice to keep as pets and also to test out her healing medicines on after their many inner-family mouse squabbles. She isn’t sure how the other pack members would feel about this show of tender heartedness, and has strove to keep her little friends secret from everyone.
Likes: She appreciates a good story, and feels as if she could adventure forever during sunset. Sunrises are what she enjoys the most, as well as knowing how to act in any situation she is put in to. She likes to feel in control of herself. The forest calls to her, and she can be found trailing through the trees during her free time with a whimsical little smile on her lips. Even in her short time here she has developed a fierce kind of affection for her packs culture, and feels very fortunate to be a member.
Dislikes: There’s nothing attractive to her about someone who cannot stay true to their word or who finds time to whine rather than working to better their situation. She hates to feel ignorant about anything, and feels a tightening in her chest whenever she is uncertain about something.
Main Talent: Healing
Weak Point(s) (at least 3): She’s kind of a sucker for anyone in need, she also has an almost crippling tendency of waiting until shes at her boiling point to let someone know they’re bothering her. The safety of her garden the something very close to her heart, and should any harm come to it she would probably break down and cry quite quickly before doing her best to fix it.
Fear(s): Someone dying while under her care, fires, and ever being attracted to someone
Song: (optional)
History: Lilu and Dustan were the only two to survive their mothers second litter, born early and out of season only a year and half after her first litter. With the pups all being so close in age yet so far apart, it wasn’t long into her life that her older siblings started taking off on their own one by one. She grew up roaming with her parents mostly, because Isilee took Dustan with her when she left, and the others had all gone before them. Being the youngest left her with the feeling that she owed it to her parents to stay with them longer than her siblings had, though she could only deny her urgings to take off for so long. With her rounded ears she took after her Eastern tribal mother, and grew up being told stories that her mother had gotten from her youth. Her mother told her that males would always be drawn to her unusual looks, and gave her the thin piece of leather that she has tied around her ear as a reminder to never let herself be sweet talked into anything. The left ear was where her mother said a sweet talker would always try to plant his words, learned to her from her tribal stories of star-crossed lovers in despair. Lilu had never consciously taken her mothers words to heart, but still she wears the leather strip from her youth. When Roan came across them in one of the summer locations after a year of travel by himself, she left her parents with him after the summer had ended. Together they spent a year roaming, her growing increasingly tired of Roans misadventures as she had to repeatedly fix his injuries; though not unwillingly developing an increased knowledge in medicine and healing of all kinds from his various and sometimes truly serious injuries. They began to spend days farther and farther apart as they journeyed, until one day she found the Pack of the Western Forest on her own and requested permission to join. Upon taking up with the pack she was at first confounded by their ‘harsh’ ways and attitudes. She had never been around so many wolves at once either, so the combined abundance of testosterone from the warriors and the complete change in atmosphere and etiquette had her completely out of her wits by the end of her first week. She was saved, however, by one of the old semi-retired healers who had once taken his turn as a shaman in his youth. His name was Grimke, a wiry old badger looking fellow who was perhaps the gruffest and most grouchy male she had ever met in her life. He had taken a sweet liking to her though, acting as a kind of grandpa mentor to her as he shared with her his den and taught her more in the ways of medicine and healing. Together they restored his old overgrown garden just north of the packs camp, and she cheekily took on the responsibility of cleaning his many-roomed den. With him her confidence within the pack grew and hardened just enough for her to remain she sweet self, whilst still holding a steely kind of no-nonsense attitude about the health of her patients. With his not untimely death a month or so after her entry to the pack, she has found herself at a bit of a loss for companionship during the weeks to follow, she still misses him dearly. And while she may love her brother, she has no desire to be with him and his adrenaline-fueled ways any longer.
Desired Rank: Healer
Current Rank: Healer
Crush: This is unlikely
Mate: N/A
Relatives and Pups: Same as Roan, and heaven forbid she have any pups at her young age
pic:[b] click



“I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible, and when I leave you will finally understand why storms are named after people.”
[b]Pack: The Pack of the Northern Mountains
Name: Aspen, though most call her Ash
Age: a young 3
Gender: fea
Scent: She’s rather scentless outside of the packs signature marking unless you’re right up next to her or if her fur gets wet; upon warming her fur with your breath you will discover the heady scent of crushed pine needles and vivacious juniper berries
Body Type: She’s soft as could be, with a willowy figure that draws your eyes with it’s lazy curves and long lines. The word ‘pixie’ is never something anyone would associate with her. Her lineage has earned her long legs and a neck that begs you to bury your face in its soft curve. Her features are sharp and bold, with slanted eyes and a dainty coal nose to play off the darkness of her brows. When she looks at you you cannot help but hold your breath and hope that the intensity of her stare is drawn somewhere else, while at the same time you hope she doesn’t lift her gaze from your own. Her ears are long and hold their shape all the way to the tips, never growing soft enough to bend forward at the tips like they look like they should. Her height is average for a fea, though from a distance her possibly out of proportion legs give her the illusion of greater height.
Pelt color: That of honey spiced with auburn and trimmed with sweetened butterscotch, her fur is a golden brown ombre. In every dip of her body the reddish auburn gives her figure definition, and any edge or sharper ripple in her fur is brightened to a lighter sun-lit honey and butterscotch hue. Her fur is thick and holds somewhat of a curl, though on any given day it is more likely to hug her in gentle tamed waves. Seen from a distance her coloring is akin to a drop of sunlit amber atop a mahogany woodpiece. Each of her paws is a darker burnt honey color, slowly lightening as it progresses up to her sunkissed shoulders.
Markings: The bridge of her nose leading up to her forehead is darker than the bottom half of her face by a few shades, and the hollows of her eyes are a dark honey color with a shimmer of gold dusted over and becoming more concentrated the closer it gets to the brow-bone. Her right forepaw is a short sock of brilliant white that cannot be found anywhere else on her body.
Eye Color: A crazily dark amber with flecks of crystalline green, framed in gold tipped lashes long enough to brush her cheeks when she blinks. She can look at you with a certain frankness or blunt focus on you and you alone that can leave you startled by the force of her gaze and bewildered by the hint her eyes give to the wildness within.
Other Details: She has neither fancy adornments nor gruesome scars to make her stand out more than she might already.
Personality: It’s hard to describe her in any way other than completely wild. She has no restraint from her reckless behavior. Whether it be trying to scout out bears to poke at or sheer rock walls to skim up. The only thing that dispels her from perhaps the majority of her wild endeavors is how little time she gives herself to pursue them. Being a hunter in a pack dedicated to doing just that has somewhat drowned out her idea of being anything special to the pack. Nonetheless, with her hunting she feels more at peace with herself, the same way she imagines the crafters in the Eastern Shore Pack must feel when they’re detailing their woodwork or molding their glass masterpieces. It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate what the majority of her packmates do, it’s just that she would rather be out in the wild doing something different than following after the one-track mind of the rest of the pack, which is how it is in her opinion anyway. She’s every bit a lady when it comes to interacting with others, though her wicked wits and wry sense of humor often come out to play if she isn’t careful to keep them in check. Oftentimes she holes up in her den to sleep, emerging in the oddest hours of the day after sleeping for far longer than would seem necessary. Nobody can sleep as well as Ash does, which makes an odd counterpart to her urge to be out acting wild, but it is the balance she has found, even if she herself is not very satisfied with it at all times. Reth used to tease that Ash had too much salt water in her blood from the Eastern Pack’s land, because just like the ocean she could be wild and untamed one minute and just as quickly be docile and lazy the next. Aspen is Reth’s counterpart in conflict, and is more apt in pursuing an argument than deflecting one. Though when it comes to snakes all bets are off, it can take hours to bring her out of a state of traumatized silence and incessant trembling with even the illusion of a snake having crossed her path let alone her actually seeing one. Her temperament burns hot and steady, and she’s soon likely to cause more trouble than she’s worth.
Likes: Doing things for the first time, listening to any kind of music, the sound of howling
Dislikes: Bullying and the smell of blood, snakes. She also finds herself rather skittish around the beautiful wolves from the Eastern Shores, but more from their scrutiny of her loosely-held manners than her actual feelings towards them.
Main Talent: Tracking
Weak Point(s): She often takes for granted those closest to her, she also has a tendency to judge others too quickly, and she hates snakes. Ash needs someone to tether her and keep her both rational and out of true trouble.
Fear(s): She is inconsolable around snakes. Like really.
Song: (optional)
History: She was born around the same time as Reth, in the pack that they had both come from. But there was some odd confusion about which pups belonged to whom in this pack, so the two grew up in a mush of pups and left with Reth’s mother when they were still very young. During the journey to the hunting pack’s lands, Aspen was the reason Reth’s mother had left him as she went out to search for her. But Aspen had gone too far and her scent had mixed too well with the surrounding forest for the young mother to find her. After Reth’s mother had returned to find him they had a tragic accident with a boar, which resulted in the end with his mother only managing to get him to the pack at first, leaving Ash lost on her own in the forest for two days before mysteriously coming back to find her and guide her to the packlands before her death. Ash and Reth grew up rather separately after that, though when it comes down to it they are still closer to each other than to anyone else in the pack.
Desired Rank: Huntress
Current Rank: Huntress
Crush: N/A
Mate: N/A
Relatives and Pups: Reth is like a brother to her since they came to the pack together, though they are knowingly not blood-related. Her parent’s names were Sprinth and Aole, and her siblings were Gwen and Benji. None of them will be joining the RP except for Reth.
Pic: Ash


“In case you ever foolishly forget; I am never not thinking of you.”
Pack: The Pack of the Northern Mountains
Name: Samreth, everyone calls him Reth though
Age: 3
Gender: Male
Scent: The smell of sweet dried maple leaves clings to him everywhere he goes, accented by a lighter touch of rich tanned and oiled leather from the number of bracers that he wears when going on more dangerous hunts.
Body Type: Days spent in the thick of a hunt have honed his body into a tool for killing. From his whippet thin frame as a youngster he’s built up layer upon layer of lean muscle to wrap around his figure. The bands of steely flexibility stand out on his long legs, obviously bred into him from a history of runners with his tad-too-big paws and nearly double-jointed hind legs for longer strides. He got too much influence from his mother though, who had been part fox somewhere in her family line. While he may have inherited the body of a hunter from his father, he holds a resemblance akin to a sleek and sneaky fox when not in his element of pursuing prey. This foxish lineage promotes a shorter stature to his frame, and while he may still be a bit taller than an average fea it is not uncommon for him to match or fall a bit below other male’s view points. His fur hides it, but his ribcage is secretly very disfigured from a pup-hood accident, the right side of him ridged with crooked lines while the left is still straight and perfect. His facial structures are straightforwardly rugged, with a hard jaw and brows worthy of a sculpture in their defined lines and ever-present frown.
Pelt color: Just like his fox-influenced lineage shows up in his figure, one cannot help but see it come out almost completely full-fledged in his coloring. To begin with he has the flashy bib of white on his chest and the inner side of each otherwise soot and cinnamon leg. The white on his chest bleeds upward along his throat and over his chin, covering only the bottom half of his face(I will add some foxy pictures for further explanation). Besides the white markings his tonnage is rusty to say the least. Not quite red or copper in any two spots, he holds a world of colors mixed like dark paint or maybe marbled bruises into his mahogany red and rust pelt.
Markings: Each ear is tipped in black, as well as his tail and nose. There’s a lengthy scar that runs along his stomach, but it is hidden by fur and he’s never had anyone touch him there for its presence to be whispered about in the pack.
Eye Color: Interchangeable with bits of bright amber and the deepest shade of navy blue, his eyes are alarmingly dark whilst still catching the light with their inner fire. Rumored to have black eyes, since he has such a prominently set frown across his brows; his eyes are almost always in shadow, and others are never really close or bold enough to make prolonged eye contact and unriddle what their true color really is. The lashes rimming them are dark and spikey, lending no hint to whether or not his eyes are truly made of black chips or some other mystery hue. When finding yourself suddenly the object of his attention it is not uncommon to lose your train of thought or ability to hear what he might be saying to you as you’re caught squinting, trying to decode his burning gaze. During sunset, or the early morning minutes, when the sunlight is cast so evenly with the earths horizontal lines, his eyes may flash their true bright forget-me-not blue as they are finally taken out of their shadow.
Other Details: Spikes of his rusted fur come up along the ridge of his back and follow all the way up over his shoulders and neck to the crown of his head, where it grows longer and softer looking, with faint feathery curls around his ears and the tips of the shiny tendrils. Two feathers, one a golden copper and the other a white and black striped novelty are tied to the last third of his lengthy tail. A small golden hoop rests snugly in the outer top rim of his right ear, as well as a thick lined perfect circle tattoo on his left forepaw in gold. His smiles are few and very far between, but perhaps that’s for the best, who knows what would happen if all the fea’s caught sight of his disarming dimples.
Personality: Sam is a bit of a mystery even to his closest pack mates, though it’s more from his doing than anyones desire of knowing him. The opportunities for friends have always been just out of his reach, because he’s truly a very shy individual when it comes to things outside of the hunting world. He’s rather ruthless when it comes to a hunt, having an eye for prey like some fea’s have an eye for future mates. He would never go after an animal in full health or too young to truthfully label as an adult, but he has been known take down prey with only Aspen as his accomplice that would have been a challenge for a hunting party twice their size. They have hunted together enough to now be a perfectly oiled machine in the take down process. Patience is his bread and butter, and is perhaps his most dominating trait. His natures are extreme from hunting to loyalty, and he’s not opposed to using his intimidating appearance to ensure the protection of his alphess and her family against those who might oppose her. This side of him is common knowledge but perhaps taken slightly for granted because of his quiet ways, since silence leads to whispers. He has done little to dispel the pack members slight apprehension of him, in truth being too apprehensive of everyone else to develop any close relationships with anyone to show his hidden sweet nature. Secrets and whispers cloud around him, for he has interestingly grown into a topic of gossip amongst the pack members. With Aspen he is more likely to resort rather quickly to clipped growls and short huffs of breath with her uncontrollable actions and stubbornness, which is where most of the pack has gotten their wariness of him; not having seen the whole picture of why he can be so short with the only pack member that’s close to him. He has a bit of charm hidden away, and one can even tug it out of him given the right day and approach. ‘Reth’ means king where he’s from, and while he may do well in aiding a leader, he is still far from being an accomplished leader on his own.
Likes: Running makes him feel freer, as well as windy days and storms. He likes things of power, but finds more enjoyment in things like easy conversation than power struggles over dominance. A sense of warmth comes over him when the pack collectively travels to the Southern camp lands during the winter, finding himself caught up in the excitement of travel and the prospect of seeing the other packs for such an extended amount of time. When the Eastern wolves bring out their instruments he feels a kind of pup-like excitement bubble up in his chest, and is most likely to smile during times like this than in any other situation.
Dislikes: Talking with others strictly one-on-one, it makes him nervous. Being called upon for his fox heritage. He’s also not pleased with being called Reth, much preferring the more gentle sound of Sam. While he likes the winter months and seeing the the packs, it only increases his feelings of being different from those around him, drawing to the forefront of his mind the fact that he wasn't truly born to any of these three powerful cultures.
Main Talent: Tracking and careful take down.
Weak Point(s) (at least 3): He’s terrible at managing confrontation when it’s directed at him. Reth also overthinks to the point of being unable to sleep because of his frantic thought process, and needs to have others tell him to go to sleep before he can actually do so most of the time. He also broke three of his ribs once when he was very small and has never been able to take a hit on that side without being terribly pained again.
Fear(s): He secretly cares very deeply about everyone in the pack, and is chilled to think of anyone ever falling deathly ill or dying. He’s also ridiculously queasy about the idea of ever being a loner.
Song: (optional)
History: Reth was born a mountain range away, and brought to this region by his mother when he was nearly half a year old. Their journey went horribly amiss though soon after they came close to the pack territory. His mother had left him to go looking for her other adopted pup, Aspen, and in his young stupidity he wandered from their spot. Soon enough his wobbly wandering led him past a boars mudhole, and he found himself trapped between the boar and his own trembling mother, who had trailed after him. In the end he had earned himself three broken ribs and an internally bleeding mother. She lived long enough to bring him to the safety of the pack, and stayed long enough to make sure he was going to live before she herself drifted away from the pack and never returned. Aspen soon arrived on her own into the pack, and the two used one another to nurse their sadness over losing their shared mother. Since then he has never fully recovered from growing up surrounded by the foreign culture and without anyone to really look up to or to call his own.
Desired Rank: Beta male
Current Rank: Beta male
Crush: He’s a little too apprehensive of the fairer members of the pack to have a crush on one just yet
Mate: N/A
Relatives and Pups: He has no relatives that he knows of, and right now I don’t think I’m going to be bringing any in to the RP. Aspen is the only one he has ever known to call a sister, and his mother is little more than a blur in his memory.
Pic: Sam


"My brain hums with scraps of poetry and madness."
Pack: The Pack of the Eastern Shores
Name: Fenrick
Age: On the brink of his third year
Gender: brute
Scent: He smells like spring, with most being reminded of sweet grasses and frosty morning dew, his scent is clean and washes all other smells from your mind with its deliciously crisp accent. There is no other description for his scent other than it being entirely his own and entirely enrapturing. However, this is only when he isn’t clouded by the smell of both smoke and fermented sweet wine.
Body Type: If you catch his figure out of the corner of your eye, it’s easy to write him off as being lanky. But with further study there is no way ‘lanky’, with its lackluster simplicity, could be matched up quite fairly to this dark brute. He could slink into a room and the first thing you would notice is his effortless grace. A dancers gait almost, with strides filled with such purpose and the rest of his body following each movement with overwhelming sureness of his place and where he is. He has notable kinesthetic awareness, and you can tell by just a glance his way that he never accidentally touches against someone else or tosses a meaningless gesture here or there. His body language speaks more than he does. The second thing you would notice upon seeing him would be his actual figure, being one as molded and carefully crafted as the works of fine art that the pack is so known for. He is of slightly taller stature than most males, but not overwhelmingly so. With legs being just long enough to be far from rendering them as ‘stocky’ when compared to the size and shape of his torso. A torso of which is banded round and round with lean muscle and just the right amount of sharper angles that dispel any kind of over-defined brawn from his long hours spent performing various chores for his father. From his father’s side of the family he retained many of his facial features, which include brooding brows and high cheekbones that compliment a very cutting and defined jawline. He looks almost pretty, the kind of handsome-pretty that’s found in the sculptures of the fine barons of older times. From his mother’s side he got his fur and eyes, as well as a nicely arched neck and tail. The whole package adding up to a very prime specimen of what a baron should be hoped to resemble, derailed only by his innate inclination to carry himself with such fierce misguidance.
Pelt color: He’s like a bruised blueberry. With the darkest hues of navy blue and hints of rich violets dappling his pelt over a base of lighter dusty navy. These slight color variations are only truly noticed when he is in the right lighting, though you can always tell that his underside is lighter than his crow-feather shoulders and back. His fur is made of dappled color variations, but his legs are of smoother color change, shifting to lighter tones the farther upwards you go from his bruise-colored paws. The same can be said for his plum tail. With luck, you may catch him out and about and actually looking neat and tidy for a change. On such an occasion he can look quite fetching, with his dappled coat boldy flashing his unusual patterns with undeniable beauty within their mixed spots and color changes. While you would be happy to see him looking tidy, you’re more likely to find him with fur as mused and unruly as could be. Looking for all the world like he took a tumble through a tag team of harsh winds and overwhelming waves. This combination can be found bluntly attractive, blunt in the sense that there is no getting around the obstacle of his perhaps stunning attractiveness when faced head-on with it. Although you definitely wouldn’t want to bring him home looking like this, for his spots are then changed from points of eye-catching shine into mottled swirls and spikes that all but scream of his wild nature.
Markings: The hollows of his eyes are much darker than the rest of his face, almost giving him a permanent look of someone with punch-blackened eyes. These dark circles are only intensified with a contrasting powder blue frosting across each defined cheekbone. His forepaws are two-toned, the right one being of a more violet blush, while the other one is as dark blue as could be. As mentioned above, he has dappled markings over his entire body, not unlike a dapple grey horse or even a dappled dachshund in some cases.
Eye Color: It is surprising how asymmetrical he is, his left eye being a blazing emerald and the other being a striking amber and emerald-flecked hazel. His eyes can be almost frightening when you realize that they don’t match, and he’s had many shun him out of their judgment on how his eyes must reflect a wildly crooked mind within. Really they are remarkably pretty for a male and can catch your attention faster than any set of electric blues or burning amber. They are usually cast in darker shadows by his brooding brows, and even when in the light there is an unmistakable sadness set in them when they are clear and unglazed by any kind of alcoholic beverage that he seems so prone to falling prey to.
Other Details: At the nape of his neck his fur starts to grow a bit longer along his center-line, coming up into a handsomely spikey Mohawk by the time it reaches the top of his head. The tips of which range from burnt navy to frosted powder-blue for the shorter hairs. He threads various small silver beads and finer hoops in the longer strands along this and his wild ruff and tail, akin to a gypsy style. Both his nose and the inner curve of both ears are a dark coal black. Aside from his eyes, the most notable thing about his face is the pale scar that cuts through the outer half of his left eyebrow, it’s short, falling just shy of his eye socket and going no further than that on the top. Balancing this out, or perhaps throwing it off, his right ear has a straight-cut bean-shaped hole punched clean through it. It’s no bigger than a rabbit’s glassy eye, but one can see clear through it from almost any angle that they see it from. When doing a job for his father that entails going out into the pack and actually socializing, he dons matching circlets of fine braided doe-skin on his forelegs. As well as having a winking diamond-cut stone of ghostly opal set in the outer rim of his right ear. He also has as silvery white tattoo of a small constellation on his right forepaw, it's obvious to everyone that sees it that it's a tattoo, but very few can recognize the shape without him saying something first.
Personality: I think I mentioned before that he has fierce misguidance, and that about sums him up pretty well. He is so burdened with his thoughts and musings, all of which hold so much power and potential, that he struggles under the weight of them. After his mother died, a pit of dark loathing for rogues and outcasts had begun to congeal in his heart. He cannot stand misdoings within the pack, and has a fierce set of morals that get him into many fights that aren’t his to begin with. At the same time he knows that he needs to withhold from these angered outbursts, for his father’s sake and for the protection of his family’s name. Fen has a great deal of patience and love of working on instruments, taught to him by his father, but this patience is only reserved for creative outlets of the like. Genuinely a gentle soul, he is known within the fea community as an almost overwhelming romantic, but he can be a bit much to take in really. He's the kind of baron that a fea would wake up to in the morning and feel surprised that he's still there, and would then be a bit of a fool for thinking that he would again be there the next day. Even though he’s quite a poet, his dark looks are not put to waste, as he has taken to being his sisters bodyguard of sorts whenever she needs to make trips too far from the packs camp. They both share a mistrust of the packlands since their mothers untimely death. I will add a bit more to him as I figure out how to say exactly who he is.
Likes: He likes quiet, but feels a need for loud and crazy. Wines and any other kind of tasteful drink of the like are oftentimes found within his reach. He is drawn to anything poetic like a moth to a flame.
Dislikes: He cannot stand injustice of any kind, and finds a kind of dark humor in the packs social orders. Rouges and thieves set him on edge.
Main Talent: He’s very good at cooking actually, and at catching others’ attention.
Weak Point(s): There’s a bit of a problem with his drinking and general lack of real interest in anything. Though his devotion to his sister could very well put him in a bad place if anything was to happen with her. His sarcastic mouth could be his demise. The more sober that he is when he falls asleep, the more apt to talking he'll be while still in slumber; which can be a bit if a detriment in more than one front.
Fear(s): He’s afraid of losing his father, as well as his sister, the same way that he lost his mother. But on the lighter side, he finds himself a bit skittish around the members from the other two packs.
Song: N/A
History: When Fen and his sister were still very young, his mother and Devin went for a walk collecting shells and sea stones from the shores. Whilst on this walk, they mistakenly ran into a group of sickly-minded rouges. At the end of the day the rest of the pack had done their best to help Devin return from her wide-eyed staring and relentless shivering, but nothing could bring back her and Fen’s mother. With her death, their father spiraled into a weakening depression, made only worse with his mild stroke a year later. Since then the twins have done their best to help their handicapped father, falling into step with him in running the business that he had made so successful with his talents as a master crafter for the social elites of the pack. With his stroke, their father became a shelled version of himself, growing quiet and socially handicapped. Both Fen and Devin have taken on equal parts of the business, while their father still works on most of the finer art pieces that are ordered. Growing up has turned Fen into a rather directionless baron, with passions too strong for him in his self-dilapidated state. While Devin has grown and turned into a fea afraid of missing out on the probably too-short life ahead of her.
Desired Rank: He doesn’t really know
Current Rank: Crafter/bodyguard
Crush: N/A
Mate: N/A
Relatives and Pups: Devin, twin. Bran, father. Misha, mother, deceased.
Pic:[b] Fen
Fen is on the left, with Devin on the right

"She struggled with her sadness, but tried to conceal it, to divide it into smaller and smaller parts and scatter these in places she thought no one would find them."
[b]Pack: The Pack of the Eastern Shores
Name: Devin
Age: Not quite 3 yet
Gender: dove
Scent: Her natural scent is something soft and spiced with sea salt, but it’s a scent so buried in her fur that it can be hard to catch it without being close to her. So more often than not, others will smell whatever happens to be her scent of the day from whatever she’s been doing. Whether it be lemon and honey from cooking with Fen, or a distinctive nutty musk from woodworking with her father.
Body Type: Being twins, Devin and Fen share the same naturally lean and elongated figures of above-average heights. But whilst Fen has turned his figure into a defined sculpture of muscle, Dev has blossomed into a delicate yet willowy balance of femininity. She is unmistakably slim of waist and slender of ankle, but she has had neither the time nor the desire to go completely controlling over her diet. Which has in turn given her a softer figure with actual curves here and there rather than the perfectly pristine figure of some of the other doves in the pack. With her added feminine curves, there is an air of strength to her. Running messages and working with the crafting for her fathers business has given her a fine set of precise muscle on those slender legs of hers. She carries herself with a kind of grace that hums with her drive to live to the fullest. Both she and her brother are bottled hurricanes of potential for anything and everything alike.
Pelt color: The fairer version of Fens dapple blueberry. She holds more of a powdery navy color as her base, with inky blue lacing up from her dark paws and accented by lighter dove-gray spots that are only slightly lighter at their center than her powder-blue navy base. Her fur is much more tame than Fens wild pelt, generally hugging close to her figure and staying as such with her mindfulness of keeping it looking clean and public-ready.
Markings: Each paw is a matching crowfeather blue, as is her center-line starting from her dark nose and following all the way to her tail tip. Each ear is likewise dark at the tip, and her brows are rendered darker than the rest of her face. The hollows of her eyes are darker as well, but not in the same punch-dark hues as her brothers. Each eyelid is lightened along her lash-line with light powder blue, and each cheekbone has a crest of the same eye-catching peppering. The longer fur of her ruff and tail are longer than anywhere else on her slim figure.
Eye Color: Both are a bright hazel, touched with bits of sunkissed honey in their center and ringed in a bright emerald along their outer rims. Almond shaped and ringed with impossibly dark lashes, they shine from her dark masked face like twin stars and just as mysterious.
Other Details: Her father, being a high standing crafter, had one of his jeweler friends go through the procedure of having small white diamonds inserted in the inner tear duct of both her eyes. She also has a silver hoop in the outer top-rim of both ears. When she’s running messages she dons a coral and peach colored band of treated rabbit leather to mark her as being on-duty. Her inheritance from her mother was a small peacock feather that her father had presented to her mother whilst courting her, after her mothers death she turned it into a delicate earing, the feather itself trailing down just behind her jawline from a fine braided band of silver. In the summer months her ruff is shorter along her neck, but in the winter it grows out longer, being the dark crowfeather blue of her dorsal-strip; she likes to wear silver and opal beads in the longer bits of both her ruff and her tail, tying them in for the whole season and then changing them with the passing of the year. When doing odd jobs for her father she may change through some random adornments, which he says make her look more professional for whatever he needs her to do.
Personality: Devin is probably one of the easiest fea's to find yourself in company with. While her dark beauty gives her the appearance of someone who might be hard to pin down to one place for very long, as if she could simply look at you once and then leave while you're still in mid sentence and her rudeness would be your own fault rather than hers. But this is something she would never do. Devin is remarkably sweet of temperament, and more patient than any fea should have a right to be. It drives Fen crazy that she can hold her breath through all of the packs little social parties and go through each of the manner displays that cloud their culture without even a blink of her pretty eyes. However, if one should look into these eyes you would clearly see that her patience is held through repetition of its use rather than being part of her actual nature. She is full to bursting with desire to be out in the pack lands practicing her tracking or running messages for her packmates and finding pleasure in friendly conversation rather than coy headgames. While Fen is of few words, Devin is a happy mixture of remaining quiet when the time is right or speaking up and drawing others out of their shell with her bright little smiles and laughter-filled words. With mindfulness of her families good name, she has taken the role of being the representative for the small trio. While it would seem like some of the pack would take pity on her misfortune and sure struggle of life afterwards, she has kept face with a fierce lift of her chin whenever dug at by a snotty fea or condescending brute. The mood in any party lifts with her presence, for her good nature and lightness of attitude are a simple pleasure. Devin has darker days though, which fuel her constant need for something as a distraction. She doesn't want to miss out on anything or anyone, believing in her subconscious that her life will be cut short just as her mothers was.
Likes: Swimming, running, woodworking and spending time with her father. She also finds deep satisfaction from spring cleaning after returning from the winter spent with the other packs. During the winter months she also greatly enjoys spending time with trackers from other packs and finding peace in the fact that they appreciate the task more so than her own pack generally does.
Dislikes: She doesn’t like feeling inferior to others, also she is made uncomfortable by talk of rogues or loners. She cannot stand anyone saying anything rude about her fathers physical state.
Main Talent: She’s rather handy at tracking, hence her side-job of running messages for the social pack members
Weak Point(s): She can have a bit of a mental block over things that she doesn’t like, and it can be rather hard to make her see things clearly if she’s unwilling to address it. Devin also had a rather traumatic experience with a group of rouges when she was younger, and has since never been able to go to the beach by herself.
Fear(s): Rogues, her father dying, being run out the pack for whatever reason
Song: (optional)
History: Her history is the same as Fen’s, except that she was there when her mother dies. She had to go through being basically tortured by the rogues as they took her mothers jewelry and then her life. They let Devin live, because there was at least some ounce of moral rightness in them that wouldn’t let them kill a pup, but for months afterwards she wished that they had killed her as well. She eventually grew out of such thoughts, only to have them replaced with the exact opposite, as she now strives to live to the fullest. With her fathers stroke she decided to take on being a tracker because she could no longer deal with staying in the den all the time to help him with the woodworking for his instruments. Since then she has made a nice enough name for herself in the tracking line, and still tries to help her father in whatever he needs as long as she doesn’t always have to stay in the den.
Desired Rank: Head tracker
Current Rank: A tracker mostly, but her father has her doing some crafting on the side
Crush: None currently
Mate: N/A
Relatives and Pups: Fenrick, twin. Bran, father. Misha, mother, deceased.
Pic: Devin

All artwork is mine.

[spiff]

Player name: . sakorian rage .
Pack: Eastern Shores
Name: Kaeden [Kade]
Age: 3 years
Gender: male
Scent: musk and pine
Body Type: If Kade had more bulk, he’d be considered to be almost brutish in size. Though tall, however, he is lean and not very obviously muscled at first glance. This lends to a lankiness that would be awkward on just about any other wolf, but, as with anything else tossed his way, he makes it work in his own way. His movements are powerful and sure, reflecting his own cockiness, and the considerable length of his legs combined with his trim torso makes his figure far from a sore sight to the eyes. In truth, his strength is that of the average male’s and he isn’t any thinner; it is just his comparatively longer limbs that make it seem that way. Certainly, he is an aesthetically pleasing sight even without the vibrancy of his fur to make him stand out.
Pelt color: eye-catching fire with flickering hues of russet, mahogany, and honey
Markings: his legs fade to white at his paws
Eye Color: hazel
Other Details: has a metal stud at the base of his right ear
Personality: Kade is... complicated, to say the least. Many marvel at how such a pretty face can hold such a multilayered personality, but it really just boils down to one basic, undeniable fact: he’s a slippery little bastard who likes to screw with everyone’s minds. It’s a wonder in itself how he landed himself in the position of alpha and even more of one how he hasn’t demolished the forest with that power yet, but at the same time it’s hard to believe how he wouldn’t have made his way up the hierarchy so quickly, what with his smooth way of talking and his killer smile. Really, he can be anyone he wants to be, and just chooses which aspect of his personality to bring out based on what’s most appropriate for his company and the situation. Because yes, he has a dazzling smile and yes, he is in turns charming and obnoxious, but at heart he’s simply ensuring his control of everyone around him. It’s just that he plays his game unnervingly well.
With Kade, there isn’t much gray area. You’re either infatuated or you hate him more than anything in the world. He’s absolutely incorrigible, seeming to voice his opinions without foresight for the consequences and making wisecracking remarks completely unbefitting one of his status, and to be totally honest he’s somewhat of a jerk. His rough-around-the-edges brand of charm is certainly unique, alluring from afar but often intolerable experienced firsthand, and it is this that leads some to adore him but far more to disrespect and underestimate him. And it’s a shame that they don’t realize, because he’s always plotting and he’s always scheming, and his words almost never match up with what he’s thinking, and he loves nothing more than to get the last laugh.
Likes: power, pretty females, himself
Dislikes: challenges to his authority
Main Talent: socializing [in particular, being charming and being what others want him to be]
Weak Points: arrogant, vain, thrives on conflict, can’t resist trouble, often downright manipulative
Fears: being overthrown, losing control of the pack
History: No one knows where Kade came from. It was a couple years ago, though: he was found by a couple pack members and brought to the alpha, who took pity on the poor pup and took him under his wing. And, well, Kade must have worked his magic on old Gray because it was him, not the beta, who Gray said with some of his last words who the next alpha would be.
That’s what the pack knows about him. The time before his arrival is shrouded in mystery and Kade doesn’t seem keen to divulge it, so it’s all up to wild speculations.
They say that truth is stranger than fiction, but it’s just the opposite in this case. Kade was the sole surviving son of his mother, Shayde. His father had abandoned them both, and so two of them were loners, roaming the forest together. When he was just one, Shayde, already weak from stress and heartbreak over the loss of her lover and so many of her pups, took ill. Knowing that she would not live to see the next week, she urged Kade to leave her and find a pack, promising that she would catch up with him, not wishing for her little boy to watch her die.
When he came to the pack of the Eastern Shores he looked out for Shayde for weeks, true to his word, and it was not until Gray gently broke the news that she was never coming that he realized she had lied to him. It hurt to know that she had died cold and alone, but he soon became busy with his new pack and the pain dulled to a throbbing ache that he has all but forgotten about.
Desired Rank: alpha
Current Rank: alpha
Crush: none
Mate: none
Relatives and Pups: Shayde [mother; deceased]

Player name: . sakorian rage .
Pack: Western Forest
Name: Aella
Age: 2.5 years
Gender: female
Scent: roses, oddly enough, considering how much it clashes with her decidedly un-feminine demeanour
Body Type: tall, powerful Amazon
Pelt color: red-brown; auburn
Markings: paws are cream-colored
Eye Color: fifty shades of grey green
Other Details: none; she believes that accessories are only hindrances
Personality: Aella never fails to find room for competition. Dead-set on being the best in everything, she comes on intense almost to the point of discomfort on the part of the wolf under her attentions, but when she isn’t being overbearing most can agree that her company is a pleasure. Aside from winning (because really, that’s in such an entirely different league that it can’t even be touched) there is nothing more she loves than a good adventure. She works better with friends than on her own, however, making her somewhat of a social butterfly when she is not focused on her training. The more uptight would say that she is too carefree and the more cynical would say that she is hardly fit for anything but rough-and-tumble work, and though it is all true, she simply doesn’t care, as is in her wild nature. She might do well to pay attention to her critics for once, though: her liveliness and spirit are certainly charming, but she is horribly incapable of concealing her thoughts and planning ahead, making her a better subordinate than a leader. wip
Likes: winning, socializing, adventures
Dislikes: lies, deception, dishonor
Main Talent: fighting
Weak Points: impulsive, hot-headed, aggressive, temperamental, idealistic
Fear(s): failing
History: (optional)
Desired Rank: warrior
Current Rank: warrior
Crush: none
Mate: none
Relatives and Pups: none that are relevant


Player name: . sakorian rage .
Pack: Northern Mountains
Name: Fey [formerly Kestrel, otherwise known as Lady Killer]
Age: 2.5 years
Gender: female
Scent: blood, wind, and something electric
Body Type: small, slim, and dainty of paw
Pelt color: silver
Markings: a smattering of black around the nape of her neck and shoulders; her tail and paws are also tipped with black
Eye Color: frosty pale green
Other Details: has a tear in both her ears from where the earrings denoting her rank were brutally ripped out by her old alpha; also has a shackle around her left wrist to mark her exile
Personality: That slip of a wolf you see? The one who ghosts around camp with disconcerting silence, here one moment and gone the next? That’s Fey, though no one’s sure if that’s her birth name. She’s a bit iffy— just showed up out of the blue one day, old blood still crusted in her fur, and demanded to be let in. And, well, with that dangerous gleam in her eyes, what choice did the pack have but to comply? Truth be told, she gets that look a lot. It’s plain unnerving to find an expression so deadly in one so young and pretty. No one knows what on earth she could have seen to make her the way she is, and no one really wants to. I guess they’re just content to let the past rest. Either that, or they’re too scared to ask. You wouldn’t think such a small she-wolf could be so terrifying, but I don’t blame them; she’s made of ice, but the kind that’s not fragile, the kind that doesn’t melt, even in fire.
Likes: the thrill of hunt
Dislikes: morals and naïveté
Main Talent: killing; it doesn’t matter whether her prey is an animal or a fellow wolf, though she doesn’t get much of an opportunity to hunt the latter these days
Weak Points: sneaky, suspicious, has little sense of loyalty, looks out only for herself
Fear(s): dying, ironically enough
History: The wolf named Kestrel was born into a pack of killers and no-good thieves two and a half years ago. The middle child in a litter of five, she ought to have grown up surrounded by siblings for company. Alas, this was no normal pack, and the alpha, Blade, immediately broke the neck of the runt of the litter— one brother that she would never get to know. Two sisters were added to that tally when they were still young because they proved to be weak, too far back for her to recall their faces today.
Kestrel and her remaining brother, Khione, grew up side by side, pushed close by the lack of other siblings. Together they trained to become miniature replicas of what Blade desired them to be: assassins, sneaking into other packs by the light of the moon and slitting the throats of the important wolves. She soon earned the nickname of Lady Killer for the quick, clean deaths she performed, often coming back to camp with scarcely a drop of blood on her paws. Their work was what enabled the rest of the pack to invade afterwards, to come in at dawn while the cold bodies of the dead leaders were found and take control of the territory, to force the new wolves into submission and kill those who resisted. In this way, Kestrel and Khione became just two more of the alpha’s weapons at an early age. They were the secret behind Blade’s empire. And if they were discontent, they were smart enough not to show it.
Until one day.
Khione had, without Kestrel’s knowledge, started up an affair with one of the females that had been conquered. She learned of this only when he was caught by a guard while the two of them tried to make their escape. Her brother and his illicit lover were brought to Blade, who commanded Kestrel to kill them both in front of the entire population. Cut deep by her brother’s betrayal but more so by the lack of trust he had shown himself to hold in her, she tore out the throat of the female without hesitation, for the first time in her life making a mess of the execution. But she couldn’t bring herself to do the same for Khione. He snarled at her to end him, wild with grief and fury, and the hate in his voice was so strong that she broke down, unable to stand it. Impatient, Blade killed Khione while she watched and sentenced Kestrel to exile for her disgrace. The earrings she bore as a sign of her rank were ripped out and a shackle attached to her paw, a symbol of shame that she will bear to the end of her days. But it is the weight of her brother’s spiteful last words that will haunt her forever.
And so she was chased from the territory and threatened with death if spotted again. Fleeing with her tail tucked between her legs, blood still spattered on her muzzle, she didn’t stop running for hours, until she was hopelessly lost in a place the likes of which she had never seen before. Kestrel had ended up in the mountains. She wandered for days, still in a daze, before she came across the pack. Desperate and wild, she pushed her way into its ranks and has since settled in as well as she possibly can. Today she calls herself “Fey”, for one of its less-known definitions: “doomed.” Because she feels like her old pack will catch up with her any day now. Because she might as well be a dead wolf walking.
She absorbed herself with her hunting — she had, after all, come from a pack of hunters, if not the usual kind — and quickly built the defence that her fellow pack members have become familiar with, burying the lost little girl beneath a thick layer of cold haughtiness. Classy, aloof, and ambitious (and unafraid to disguise it), no one would ever imagine the wreck she was that fateful day. And that’s just the way she would have it.
Desired Rank: alpha
Current Rank: huntress
Crush: no (maybe)
Mate: never (who knows?)
Relatives and Pups: Khione [brother; deceased]

“Everything that kills me makes me feel alive.”
Player name: sakorian rage
Pack: loner, will eventually join either Northern Mountains or Western Forest
Name: Freyne; but since that’s a bunch of awkward consonants that are easy to trip over in a conversation, he goes by the easier-to-say Frey
Age: 2 years
Gender: male
Scent: something windswept and wild; nothing identifiable
Body Type: If he took better care of himself, Frey’s naturally tall and lithe build would be attractive. Yet negligence to his own health has made him wiry to the point where he just looks lanky and hungry, and his ever-present slouch conceals his height. However, he moves with surprising grace— though his constantly sullen mood leaks into even some of his physical aspects and makes it seem like he stalks everywhere, as if constantly on the hunt.
Pelt Color/Markings: Frey has never cared much for the state of his fur, and thus there is never a time when it is not tousled and unruly. When not covered in dirt, however, one can see that it is an attractive blend of varying shades of gold, most ranging on the darker, more burnt-looking side. The sides and bottom of his muzzle, where his mouth is, are a couple shades lighter, the closest thing to white he has on him, as are his chest and underbelly fur. If he ever bothered to clean himself up and wipe that perpetual scowl off his face, there is no doubt that he would be devastatingly good-looking.
Eye Color: Frey’s eyes are lucid pools of gray, the same shade as an early morning sky but not as cloudy, bright as they are with hidden life.
Other Details: none
Personality: The recent deaths of Frey’s parents have only made him more contrary and disagreeable than ever. Often saying and doing things just to contradict other wolves, his already reckless behavior has become downright self-destructive. Never known for thinking ahead or anticipating the consequences of his actions, he has always lived in the moment— only now, his daredevil ways put not only himself but those around him in peril. He’s taken on predators alone, sometimes barely escaping with his life. And the natural sense of fear that kept his ancestors alive? He doesn’t have it. The simple truth is, Frey’s stopped caring. It no longer matters to him whether or not he lives to see the next sunrise, and he doesn’t see how this can hurt others.
Likes: danger, sarcasm, close brushes with death
Dislikes: being told what to do
Main Talent: being difficult just for the heck of it— no? That doesn’t count? Fighting, then.
Weak Point(s) (at least 3): moody, insensitive, speaks before he thinks, careless
Fear(s): pain, the emotional kind
History: Orphaned recently, he hasn’t been quite the same since his parents died.
Desired Rank: loner
Current Rank: loner
Crush: none
Mate: none
Relatives and Pups: Gale [father; deceased]
Ana [mother; deceased]
Finvarra [brother]
Findabhair [sister]

Player name: sakorian rage
Pack: loner
Name: Finvarra [Finn to his sister]
Age: 3 years
Gender: male
Scent: grassy and stormy, like a summer night
Body Type: Finvarra isn’t remarkable in either height or weight but rather the size of the average male; it is his unforgettable personality that shines through and makes him truly noticeable. Not quite as tall as Frey nor quite as skinny, he is still wiry and lithe — what Frey would be if he started eating better — and his confident bearing make him look larger than life, which is perfectly suited to his personality.
Pelt Color/Markings: In general, Finvarra is what Frey would look like if he took a bath, with the exception of eye color. They’re both too dark to be the blindingly bright yellow of the sun, but they certainly come close: composed of charred gold of a dozen shades ranging from flax to amber, the effect is only magnified when struck by the sun itself; their fur lights up like a second star on Earth. It’s like they’ve been blessed by the sun god himself, and it’s absolutely dazzling to look at (in Finvarra’s case, at least; unfortunately, Frey’s second layer of dirt rather ruins things a bit).
Eye Color: One of the brightest blues you’ll see on a wolf, Finvarra’s eyes only complete the image of the golden summer boy. If his fur is the sun and the sand, then his eyes are the sky and the sea, if not even more expressive than the latter. Though they don’t change color (not noticeably, at least) the unfiltered thoughts and feelings behind them make it seem that way, so strongly do they radiate emotion.
Other Details: none
Personality: Finvarra is fully aware that he’s won the genetic lottery, and this understandably makes him quite a narcissist. Get him near a mirror or a body of water and he’ll inevitably glance at it at least once, oh-so-casually. Yet shallowness aside, get to know Finvarra a little better and you’ll wonder why you ever thought he cared only for himself. He’s a good sport, easily acknowledging his faults, graciously accepting jibes about his vanity and capable of making fun of himself. Boisterous and playful in general, age hasn’t dimmed his sense of fun or flirtation. But petty things aside, his love for what remains of his family extends far deeper than his love for himself, and just one conversation concerning either of his siblings will reveal the fierce sense of protection he feels over both of them. Though he let Frey run off to give him some time to cool down after the tragedy that left them all orphans, he and Findabhair have been discreetly tracking their baby brother to make sure he doesn’t get himself killed. Frey might want nothing more than to wallow in self-pity, but as the eldest of the siblings, Finvarra feels responsible for making sure that their family doesn’t lose any more members.
Likes: his family and, to a lesser extent, himself
Dislikes: Automatically suspicious of any male who tries to come onto Findabhair, try as he might to claim he doesn’t hate every wolf who flirts with her, everyone who knows Finvarra knows it’s a lie: he loves his sister and only wants the best for her, yet he’s going to have a tough time letting her go should she find the one she wants to spend the rest of her life with. In general, he doesn’t like anything that he feels threatens his family.
Main Talent: anyone who doesn’t live in a pack has to be good at hunting in order to survive, and indeed Finvarra is an adept hunter, but his true talent lies in socializing
Weak Point(s) (at least 3): narcissistic, vain, self-centered
Fear(s): something happening to either of his siblings, even though he doesn’t make his affection for Frey quite as obvious as he does for Findabhair
History:
Desired Rank: loner
Current Rank: loner
Crush: none
Mate: none
Relatives and Pups: Gale [father; deceased]
Ana [mother; deceased]
Findabhair [sister]
Frey [brother]

Player name: sakorian rage
Pack: loner
Name: Findabhair [Finn to her brother]
Age: 3 years
Gender: female
Scent: a heady combination of rain and wisteria
Body Type: Findabhair is only slightly taller than the average female, but her proud bearing makes her seem so much more so that one cannot help but feel that she is truly untouchable, so above the world does she seem. The proud arch of her chest and neck make an admirable line that is pleasing to trace the eye along, and it is only the slight downward tilt of her head that welcomes others to approach her; without it, many would be too intimidated to speak to her at all. As it is, Findabhair still finds that she is usually the one to initiate interaction.
Pelt Color/Markings: Where Finvarra and Frey are all burnt gold and streaks of amber, Findabhair is honey and cream, a pale morning haze while her brothers blaze like a hot afternoon sun. All the same, that is not to say she isn’t as unforgivingly golden as her brothers. The trio are actually very alike in terms of appearance, sharing a lean build and striking fur color. The real difference — and even then it cannot be called much of a difference — is in Findabhair, whose willowy figure, defined waist, and softer, pastel palette give her a distinctively feminine air. Long and silky to the eye, her fur is even silkier to the touch of the lucky few who can get close enough. Hues of the aforementioned honey and cream with undertones of syrup blend and dip together, yet remain differentiated enough from each other that each lock can be distinguished from the others. The length of her fur tends to hide her appealing build in the winter, but in the other seasons it clings just close enough to her body to accentuate her curves in all the right places.
Eye Color: Blue-gray pools framed by extraordinarily long eyelashes, they seem to shift with her mood, vibrant and electrifying cerulean blue one moment and hazy gray the next. Flecks of gold stand out when she is feeling a particularly strong emotion. Findabhair can communicate a surprisingly wide range of emotions with her eyes alone; from the demure lowering of her lashes when playing coy to the half-lidded, smoky yet bored drive-you-wild glint she gets when flirting to the violent lightning-blue shade they turn on the rare occasion that someone manages to severely piss her off.
Other Details: none
Personality: Smart, eloquent, and mischievous, the simple act of having a genuine conversation with Findabhair can be intoxicating, but the road to get there is an arduous one. Her naturally detached manner makes it a challenge to earn her attention in the first place, and even after succeeding in piquing her interest, it’s a struggle in itself to keep it. Her captivating gaze is always wandering for something new, and though it might focus on your face for a little while, chances are she’ll move on once she’s determined that she’s gotten everything out of you that’s going to interest her. Life for Findabhair is a quest to find something that won’t bore her, but seeing as how this category only contains two wolves in it — both of them being her brothers, as other males take less priority in her mind and she tends to confuse them, inadvertently adding to her distant brand of charm — it’s going to take something special to make her stop viewing you as just another acquaintance.
Findabhair opens up only slightly more readily with those of the same gender and with those who make it clear that they are not interested in her romantically, always eager to make new friends but afraid to trust anyone but her brothers enough to grow close. However, this is not the only barrier hindering her from developing a circle of companions: though she loves to socialize and has plenty to say, every whimsical thing in her head that makes her so charming dries up the moment she decides she could be doing something better with her time— something which, as covered before, occurs often. She becomes visibly closed off when this happens, leading others to misunderstand and think that she wouldn’t like to be friends with them. While this can be appealing in the games of cat and mouse she plays with hopeful suitors, it is the main reason that Findabhair is so lonely at heart even with Finvarra and Frey.
Her brothers are the only ones whom she trusts completely enough to be herself around, the only ones who hear everything she has to say without the prettification that she almost always applies to her words, and it is when she is with them that her major flaws come out— for while she may seem so, she is far from perfect. These flaws are not her detachment or her aloofness or her flightiness. For you see, Findabhair’s modus operandi is not accidental in the least, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t sometimes feign disinterest to get someone to chase after her. The Findabhair known to the world has her head too much in the clouds to be so manipulative, and this is part of her allure, but the Findabhair she is inside pulls the right strings on purpose to make them dance her way. This in itself isn’t bad, per se, even if it isn’t good, but she keeps it secret for a darker reason that she won’t admit even to herself: she likes her games. And if anyone’s smart enough to figure it out, well, she’d love to play with them.
Likes: mind games, heart games, wordplay, riddles, puzzles; anything and anyone that challenges her and keeps her interested
Dislikes: being pressured to do anything she doesn’t want to do, being bored, making inane small talk
Main Talent: tracking; she actually doesn’t consider herself to be much good at socializing, since she’s no good at conversing when her heart’s not in it
Weak Point(s) (at least 3): flighty, often detached, aloof, manipulative, controlling, deceptive
Fear(s): giving herself to someone and losing control
History:
Desired Rank: loner
Current Rank: loner
Crush: none
Mate: none
Relatives and Pups: Gale [father; deceased]
Ana [mother; deceased]
Finvarra [brother]
Frey [brother]

[The Royal Mirage]

You are now welcome to post your forms! We will hopefully be starting at the end of this week